Black Mask

by Ieyre

Christmas 1979—danger, secrets, lies and their shared history loom large over the Blacks' first Yuletide season as a reunited family. While life as a fugitive proves bleaker—and more boring—than Regulus could have imagined, a botched espionage mission at Malfoy Manor draws Sirius deeper into the Black family web. [Sequel to 'In the Black']

33. Chapter 33

"They were no match for her, even though there were four of them against one of her: She was a witch, as Harry knew, with prodigious skill and no conscience."

-J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

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CHAPTER 33

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Sirius's first conscious thought beyond why does my head feel like it's filled with boiling sand was to wonder how he'd ended up in the position he found himself.

The physical position.

How he could he, Sirius Black, the wizard who tossed and turned over a pillow being the wrong shape, have fallen asleep upright in a wooden chair? It beggared belief.

He lifted his hand—or tried to. Then he remembered the sequence of events that had led him to this particular moment in time, and he guessed—quite rightly, as it turned out—that the reason he had managed this feat was that he had been tied to said chair while unconscious.

"Well, well, well—did Sleeping Beauty wake up at last? And all on her own, too."

His second (third?) conscious thought was to place that smarmy voice muttering in his ear with the extremely punchable face of its owner.

Shit.

"Sure. Anything to keep you from kissing me, Rosier."

Sirius tried to open his eyelids and wondered if they, like his hands and feet, were held down by magic. That stunner straight to the face had done a number on him—there had to have been a follow-up curse. He'd never been stunned so hard that he felt like his brains had been turned over a fire pit, and that was the closest description Sirius could come up with for whatever had been done to him.

"Methinks the lady doth protest too much," the voice drawled.

"You can go." New voice. Low, gruff, dangerous—Lestrange. One of them, he couldn't tell which.

"I don't think I will, actually," Rosier replied—was it as dark for them as it was for him, or was he blind now, into the bargain? "They're a lot more fun when they're awake."

"Evan—perhaps you…you ought to—"

A third voice, like the second—only nervous and…weaker. Rabastan.

Rabastan had been the one who stunned him. He remembered that now. Perhaps Rosier had done the other part.

"Let him stay, by all means, Rodolphus," Sirius croaked. "It's the only proper go at me he'll ever get—tied to a chair."

At last he opened his eyes, his sight slid in and out of focus. Sirius tried to make sense of the room. He couldn't move his head, so he had to make do with what was in front of him. Stone walls, long table, no windows—were they in the old servants' hall? He thought it had been dusk when he arrived, but now it was pitch black, there were torches all along the walls…but then again, no windows, genius, it could've been the middle of the next day, for all he knew.

"What did you say?"

"You heard me." Sirius rolled something metallic around in his mouth for a moment before he realized what it was. Blood. "And you got my meaning."

"If you don't watch your tongue, Black," Rosier said, in a dangerously soft voice. "I may have to cut it out."

"You won't do anything to his tongue," Rodolphus interjected. "Until he tells me how the fuck he got into my house."

At last Lestrange's face swam into view—rough-hewn, brutal features that Sirius hadn't seen close up in several years, and had never liked much then. They were fixed in an expression that would have looked dull on anyone else, but Sirius assumed indicative of rage in Rodolphus's face—if his tone of voice was anything to go by. He recalled the story he'd told Colette about Lestrange having almost been expelled from Hogwarts for what he'd euphemistically referred to as 'getting in fights.'

What he'd neglected to tell her was what the victim had looked like when Professor Flitwick found the poor sod.

Face as flattened as a Shrove Tuesday buffet breakfast.

"Not…much of a motivator, is it?" Sirius croaked. "I talk and…Rosier cuts out my tongue. What's…in it…for me?"

"He could cut off something else." Rodolphus leaned forward and growled. "How did you get in the grounds?"

"You see, there's this thing called…walking."

Lestrange slammed his fist down on the table so hard that Sirius felt the vibration through his chair.

"I'm only going to ask this one more time, Black," he spat. "How did you get past the wards?"

Even in his diminished mental state, Sirius heard the impatience in Lestrange's voice. The sod was really worried about the stupid effing spells that surrounded this fortress, wasn't he?

His gaze had begun to sharpen—despite the effects of the spell, which prevented him from even moving his head, he could now make out the distant shadowy figures behind Lestrange. Just two—Rosier and his brother.

"Where's Bellatrix?"

There was a stunned silence.

"What did you just say to me?"

"I said…where's Bella?" He tried to spit—it dripped down his chin instead. "I want to talk to her. To the lady of the house."

"You think this is a tea party, fuckwit? You're tied to a chair. I'm the one who is asking the questions. You don't make demands of me."

"You haven't told her I'm here, have you?" God, he hated these people. He really couldn't resist the urge to needle them, not when they were a row of pompous pricks right in front of his eyes. "You shouldn't lie to your wife, Rod. It's a bad habit…unless you're just returning the favor. I'm sure she lies to you—maybe…that's just how you two are."

"What did you say?"

"Well…she takes after her dad, and he's not exactly the picture of marital fidelity." Is this the stupidest thing I've ever done? "But I guess you can't really object when it's your…boss."

The blow came without warning. Sirius's head slapped back into the side of the chair.

Blood began to gush out of his nose.

Yes, I think it was.

"Do you have a death wish, Black?"

He'd always thought the expression 'seeing stars' was a cliché—before now. The exploding lights in front of his eyes prevented him from seeing a mouth move, but he was almost certain it had been Rosier who had asked the question.

Beneath the silky condescension, Sirius detected the faint trace of amusement. The fact that he had made Evan Rosier laugh gave him more cause for regret than being punched in the face by Rodolphus.

"Some people think so," Sirius coughed.

"Tell me—" Rodolphus struck him across the mouth again. "How the fuck you got in this house."

"You know…I've always thought this castle was such a hideous pile that it had to have good security, at least." He smiled through the blood. "But I guess it's living up to the Lestrange family name…ugly and useless."

"You

This time he was expecting the blow, and so he braced himself for the inevitable slap across the face, or worse, when—

The door opened.

"What is the meaning of this?"

The Lestrange brothers and Rosier all turned their heads in the direction of the doorway. At that voice—low, soft, deceptively feminine—Sirius had an immediate, visceral jolt of fear.

Bellatrix Lestrange stepped out of the hallways and closed the door behind her, a gentle and well-bred gesture befitting the lady of the house. Her eyes took in the scene in front of her—they moved from her husband, his bloody hand raised in the air—to Rabastan and Evan looking on (the one with apprehension, the other giddiness)—to her younger cousin, tied to a chair and bleeding profusely out of his nose.

Bellatrix let the moment linger longer than any of the parties were comfortable with.

She looked to Rodolphus first, not losing the haughty, bored expression she'd come into the room with.

"I came looking for you because I need your help greeting our guests, darling," she said. "I didn't realize you were already engaged in showing some of that famous Lestrange hospitality."

Rodolphus clenched his fist and lowered it.

"Hello, Sirius," said Bellatrix, in a sort of affected, pleasant voice. "How long have you been here?"

He found her casual air, as if she'd found him sitting on a sofa in the drawing room drinking a glass of brandy, extremely unnerving. His cousin wore a midnight-blue satin gown with a high neckline and dove-gray pearl necklet, her dark hair swept up and civilized in a chignon.

This matronly style clashed with the dark threat that danced behind her eyes.

"'Is a bit hazy," he replied.

"Rabastan found this little shit creeping around our garden and stunned him," said Rodolphus, unapologetic. "We were just finding out how the hell he got in and what he's doing here."

Bellatrix fiddled with her pearls.

"Why didn't you tell them, Sirius?"

"I was just…getting around to it." He coughed up some blood. "Got…distracted by a fist in my ear."

"I'm afraid this is one of my cousin's little jokes. He always lets them go on too long." She swiveled her catlike eyes from Rodolphus back to Sirius. "Why don't you explain how you got through Rod's wards, hm?"

"Bella—"

"Tell them."

It was not a tone that brooked dissent. He sucked in a shaky breath and exhaled.

"I…made it through the wards around the house because Bellatrix…invited me."

There was a long silence. Sirius dearly wished he was capable of moving his head, but his current position forced him to keep staring straight ahead at the unpleasant quartet in front of him.

Rodolphus was the first to speak.

"You invited him?"

"He's an important member of my family. Frankly, I don't see why you think it's appropriate to treat him like this."

"He's not an important member of anything—"

"Why would you—why would inviting him make a difference?" Rabastan asked, his voice shaking. "To Rodolphus's spells?"

Sirius started to laugh—it came out in wheezing bursts and turned into a bout of blood-soaked coughs.

"Have you—" Sirius choked out. "God, Bella, have you really never explained this to them?"

Bellatrix looked down at him. Her husband, brother-in-law and cousin all watched her, waiting to see how she would react to this insolent address from their prisoner.

"It's never…come up."

"Never come up—?" Sirius tried to turn to Rodolphus—and almost managed to move his head. "Doesn't your father-in-law ever pop by the house, Lestrange?"

"Oh, he does," Bella answered. "But I don't invite Papa, first. I don't want to make it easy for him."

"What is he talking about?" said Lestrange, looking very much as though he'd like to strike Sirius across the face again and wished his wife was not there to stop him. "What does he mean?"

"I told you to explain, Sirius."

It was a deceptively sweet voice—from Bellatrix, that was the worst kind. He swallowed.

"Family magic," Sirius felt himself sliding down in the chair, too weak to fight gravity. "Secrets of the trade. It's a little known fact that if—if a Black invites any other Black to his home—or, her home, in this case—directly, then the invited party can walk safely through any defensive spells attached to the house. Ancient enchantment, through the bloodline. Probably a lot of people died to make it happen. Course, doesn't protect you from the invitee's brother-in-law stunning you in the head, so here we are."

He glared at Rabastan—or tried. Bella's brother-in-law appeared a bit…fuzzy, to him.

"Clever little Sirius," Bellatrix said, in a sing-song voice. "No one ever thought he was listening to his family history lessons. But he was, all along."

"At least," Sirius coughed. "To the ones that mattered."

Rosier leaned over, languidly splaying his fingers out on the table in front of Sirius.

"Is that really true?" Evan raised an eyebrow. "How…sentimental of your family."

"Well, we all know that blood matters, here," said Bellatrix. "And a black sheep is still Black."

She smiled down at him fondly—and Sirius, to his disconcertion, couldn't tell if it was mocking or in earnest.

"Someone should check the grounds," said Rosier. "There's no way he came alone."

"I don't think that will be necessary," said Bellatrix. "Sirius, did you come alone?"

"…Yes."

"And you didn't tell anyone you were coming, did you?"

"No," he admitted, after a moment. "I didn't."

Rosier's handsome face contorted with contempt.

"He's lying." He sat up. "No one could be that stupid."

"You'd be surprised," said Sirius.

"If you can't keep a civil tongue when speaking to the future head of my family, Evan," Bellatrix said, coldly. "I'll kindly ask you to leave."

"The future what?"

Sirius managed to jerk his head in Bella's direction. She gave him an odd, fixed smile.

"He's not the future head of anything," said Rodolphus, sounding furious. "He's a filthy blood traitor. He's been disowned. Everyone knows that."

"Oh, no—that's all been settled."

Bellatrix crossed around the table and picked up a small, shiny object Sirius couldn't make out through the dark gloom and his watering eyes.

"What a lovely Christmas present."

He realized, in mute horror, that Rodolphus and company had emptied his pockets while he was unconscious—and that the object Bellatrix now held up in the torchlight was the was the gold pocket-watch that his father had given him.

"What's that?" growled Rosier.

"It's a family heirloom," she answered, smoothly. "It belongs to my Uncle Orion—or did, at any rate. I saw him take it out and check it on Christmas Eve, so you can't have had it long. Did he give it to you as a gift when you had him and your mother over for dinner yesterday, Sirius?"

She stared into his eyes. Sirius held her gaze, trying not to blink. Besides Orion she was the best legilimens he knew.

Of course, doesn't matter if she already knows everything.

But she might not know everything. She might only know about the dinner. Or maybe it was all a bluff.

That…seemed unlikely, given where he found himself and how he'd got here.

How lucky that Sirius was well known for his cunning and tact in the face of adversity.

This situation required…delicacy.

"Look at you, Bellatrix! Spoiling my little Christmas surprise," Sirius laughed. "I hope you haven't told your mother yet. Mine was really looking forward to rubbing her nose in it."

"In what?" spat Lestrange.

"My reinstatement as heir to the Black family."

Rodolphus let out a contemptuous snort, while Rosier started to laugh and Rabastan simply gaped.

"That's bullshit."

"It's not."

"What about Regulus?"

Sirius turned his eyes towards the younger Lestrange brother, long accustomed to being the weakest personality in any room he walked in. Today was no different.

The thought that Colette had considered shackling herself to this dim-witted thug gave him the extra fillip he needed to really drive the knife in.

"My father never bothered formally taking me out of the line of succession. He hoped I'd—see the error of my ways. And I have. Or—" He jerked his head towards Bella, still holding the watch in front of his face, like a hypnotist. "—At least I've done a convincing enough impression of repentance to receive that as a gift."

Bella tossed it back on the table.

"So Reg has to do what every second-born son's has to do—get back in his proper place. You'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Rabastan?"

The younger Lestrange brother flushed, his weak chin trembled violently. Oh goody, I managed to piss the third one off, too—the one with the personality of reheated toast.

"Even if you were stupid enough to invite this arsemonger, Bella," seethed the elder Lestrange. "That doesn't explain why he came."

"He came for the party, of course," she said. "He's tired of all that filth he's been hanging about. There's better company to be found here, isn't there?"

Bellatrix spoke in the mocking, condescending voice she had often used when she'd had the task of watching Sirius and Regulus as children.

"This is his way of making amends with the family, like a good prodigal son."

"As long as you've got some house elf out there slaughtering the fatted calf for me, Bella, I'll be happy to meet whatever pricks you've invited to your soirée."

She raised an eyebrow and smiled.

"Give me his wand." Rodolphus pulled it out of his pocket and handed it to her. Bellatrix examined it with familiar care, then tucked it into a pocket.

"You three go back to the party. I'm going to have a little family chat with my cousin." She narrowed her eyes. "Alone."

"What are you going to do?" asked Rosier, warily.

"He's been rubbing shoulders with so many half-breeds and mudbloods, I need to make sure he's fit for civilized company before I…unleash him on the rest of our guests."

Rodolphus stepped between his wife and the prisoner. Hostility rolled off him like a stench, and he gave Sirius a look of intense distrust.

"I better stay."

"For God's sake—" Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "I can handle it. Christ, I used to wipe his nose for him." She paused. "I might still need to."

Sirius's face burned. The three men laughed—Rodolphus loudest of all—and left the room. Bellatrix followed, murmuring some words of reassurance to her husband he couldn't catch. When she'd sufficiently placated Lestrange, she shut the door behind him.

"I see you got my note."

Madame Lestrange turned around, looking of suppressed triumph on her face. He tried to square his shoulders, but he still couldn't really move, so he settled for a nonchalant half-shrug. The key with Bella was to never show fear. She was never afraid, and she didn't respect people who feared anything—least of all her.

"You know I could never have made it on the grounds if I hadn't."

Sirius tensed up as she walked towards him. He found himself wishing for the return of the man who had been about to beat the shit out of him and his two henchmen. At least with them he knew what to expect. With Bella, however…

Bellatrix stopped in front of him, bent over and untied his hands.

When his arms sprang free, Sirius rubbed his wrists and rolled his stiff shoulders. They smarted from where the ropes had been coiled around them.

"Thanks." Sirius gave her a look of confidence that he didn't feel. "How about you give me back my wand, too?"

She smiled with genuine amusement.

"I will. If you behave yourself."

Before he had a chance to ask what 'behaving himself' entailed, Bellatrix reached over and grasped Sirius by the chin. He flinched at her touch—but her hands were soft and cool on his skin.

"You could have spared yourself this—" She brushed a thumb over the rising bruise on his cheek. "—If you'd just knocked on the front door."

"And you could have sent me a portkey. Isn't that what you usually do for your parties?" He grimaced and tried to jerk out of her grip—but like Walburga, she was too strong. "Of course, you wouldn't want just anyone poking around where you hide the bodies."

"Our ancestors spent a lot of time on that blood magic, Sirius. It would have been disrespectful not to make use of it."

"For some reason," Sirius snorted. "I didn't think your husband's 'friends' would be too pleased to see me. I wonder where I got that idea."

Bella tutted under her breath.

"So you come sneaking around back, like a thief?" Her fingernails dug into his skin. "You didn't give them much of a choice. What was poor Rod to think?"

"Is thinking something he's capable of?" Sirius rubbed his forehead and hissed in pain. "I thought he had only two modes—kill and fornicate."

Bellatrix stifled a laugh.

"I hope you didn't say that to his face." She rubbed off the blood that had dried under his lip. "Or is that how you ended up with like this?"

"I may have suggested you were sleeping with your boss."

Bellatrix's eyes narrowed. She released his chin and stepped back.

"That was unkind of you, Sirius," Bella said, her voice low. "You're lucky he didn't do worse."

"Judging by the force of that punch, I'd guess I hit pretty close to the mark." Her eyes were still narrowed. Sirius decided to push his luck, as he so often did when he was cornered. "Is it true?"

The smile she gave him didn't reach her eyes.

"If it were true, little cousin, you'd be the last person I would tell."

He had another stab of fear—far more potent than anything Rodolphus was capable of instilling in him.

No blow came this time, however.

"I'm surprised it took you this long to arrive. I sent the invitation and the rest of the package hours ago."

"I was in Hogsmeade."

She sat down across from him. Sirius saw his wand sticking out of her pocket. His hands were unbound, he did the calculation in his mind—it was within reach—he was taller than her now, a fully grown man.

"Oh, Sirius…you aren't that stupid."

He raised his eyes to hers.

"Even if you were up in Scotland," she continued. "You took your time getting down here. Maybe you care less about that French slag than I thought."

There it was. Sirius tensed in his chair. Bellatrix watched him with a mixture of amusement and pity.

"Bella—"

"I want you to consider something. When I'm in here with you—I'm not somewhere else with her. So if you really care about that bitch, you'll want to keep me amused by your presence and your stunning conversational skills for as long as possible, yes?"

Sirius nodded. Bella smiled and patted him on the shoulder.

"When was the last time we saw each other, Sob?"

She managed to infuse Lucretia's fond nickname with a mocking, babyish contempt.

The question, and the casual, even friendly tone in which it was couched so soon after a direct threat, disarmed Sirius. He'd taken that sobering potion before he left Hogsmeade, and though it had made him fit to drive with the single-minded purpose that had brought him from Scotland to the south, it had left the sickly feeling of a hangover, and that, combined with the effects of being stunned by Rabastan made him uncertain—not himself.

"I—I'm not sure," he answered, honestly. "Maybe…Cissy's wedding."

"Yes! That's it. We had a good laugh that night, if I remember right."

Why did she want to talk about this, of all things?

"You and I have never 'had a good laugh' in our lives."

"Sure we have. I remember it distinctly. You had just had your fourth glass of champagne, and you remarked that it was a shame Cissy was marrying England's biggest prick, because in all probability he had the smallest one."

Sirius let out an involuntary, choking laugh.

"I don't remember saying that."

It sounded like him. Bella grinned.

"I could never forget it. It was the only honest remark I heard that whole night."

Bellatrix pulled a simple silver hip-flask from her pocket and held it out to him. It reminded him of the one that he'd lost the night of Arcturus's birthday party.

"Fancy a drink?"

"I'm on the wagon, thanks."

"You smell like you've been rolling around in Ogden's finest," Bellatrix said, giving him a haughty once-over. "Hair of the dog?"

He eyed the flask with great suspicion.

"How fucking stupid do you think I am, Bella?"

She grinned and took a healthy swig, then shook it in his face—a taunt or a dare, or maybe both.

"No poison, see?"

"Maybe you just have immunity, like a venomous snake."

The grin dropped from her face, replaced by irritation. Sirius flinched at the shift.

"Don't be so uptight." She pulled out a pack of cigarettes from the pile of his meagre belongings still sitting on the table—a pile that was out of his eye-line. He tried to remember what he'd had in his pockets when he'd left Hogsmeade and drew a blank. At this point it probably didn't even matter. "I'll even try one of these mudblood bits of trash in exchange—alls fair, isn't it?"

She lit up one of his cigarettes and held it in front of her face.

"Not scared, are you?"

Sirius snatched the silver flask from her hand and, knowing full-well it was likely the stupidest thing he could do in the circumstances, but not thinking there was any way out of it, took a swig. The liquor had a bitter, metallic taste and burned on the way down.

Bella took a drag from the cig and wrinkled her nose.

"I can't believe you willingly subject yourself to these." She stubbed it out on the table. "That's the price of rebellion, I suppose."

"They're an acquired taste."

"Acquired at a pig troff," Bella smirked. "You really did come here alone, didn't you? That seems reckless, even for you. Should I be expecting some of that Order scum you cavort with to gatecrash my party?"

"What would be the point? You haven't committed a crime. Not that can be proven. It's not a crime to have a party, even if you do invite people like Malfoy to it."

"You still haven't asked where she is. Or how she is. You needn't act indifferent on my account."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Sirius lied—a half-hearted effort at best, he knew, but there was something in Bellatrix's face that made the idea of capitulating to her abhorrent.

She rolled her eyes.

"Please. Much as I'm enjoying our catch-up, I know you didn't come here to talk to me. Though…I was expecting you, and if it hadn't been Rabastan who caught you, it would have been one of the others I set out around the grounds."

Bellatrix's cold, grey eyes gleamed with ill-disguised triumph. Like most women win his family, she never could resist the chance to gloat.

"You took advantage of my generous hospitality in inviting you because you thought you could get into this house and whisk her away—just like you sneaked into your parents' house on Christmas Eve and took her to meet your blood traitor and half-breed associates." Sirius went pale. "I can't say I'm very impressed with your taste."

Okay. So. She's not bluffing.

How did she know? Had Bella seen Colette leaving Number Twelve? Had she intercepted the note he'd given Bletchley? He knew these questions were obvious on his face, just as he knew the answers would not be forthcoming from her.

"Look, Bella—just…leave her alone. She doesn't know anything."

Bella stared down at him, relishing Sirius's obvious discomfort.

"I mean it," he continued. "I—haven't told her about—you, or Malfoy—or any of you lot. She doesn't even know I'm in the Order."

"She'd be a fool not to. Not after she hid behind the curtain in the library at Evan's house and listened in on Rod, Rabastan, Lucius and I."

Bellatrix reached into her cloak and pulled out a vial. In it were a few strands of light brown hair. It could have been anyone's—but he knew it was hers.

"I thought I heard a sound, a sort of rustling. I went and checked later and found these. Your girl even sheds like a bitch."

Effing hell. Sirius resolved to scream at Colette as soon as he escaped from this room and rescued her from whatever trouble she'd landed herself in.

"Merlin, Bella! Did you ever consider not plotting in the middle of a bloody party?" he asked, indignant. "Haven't you ever heard the one about discretion being the better part of valor?"

"I didn't think I had to keep mum at Evan's. I've never had a nosy snoop eavesdrop on me there before now."

She spoke with a light, airy voice—daring Sirius to push forward, to ask what he wanted to know.

Fine. I'll play.

He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

"So…what did she hear, anyway?"

"Nothing much. We were talking about you, actually."

"I'm flattered. Anything in particular?"

Bellatrix ignored the question in favor of staring intently at Sirius. Her eyes, identical to his own, gleamed in her face—he could see himself reflected back in them.

"Your face is nice and healed up."

Bellatrix leaned over the table and caressed his right cheek with her thumb. He froze.

"No scar. Someone who knows a lot about curses must've tended to it."

He suddenly remembered Colette asking him, apropos of nothing, who had taught him to duel—and his complete refusal to admit it was the woman currently sitting opposite him.

Sirius pulled the chair back and away from her.

He knew.

"You…bitch. It was you."

The smile on Bellatrix's face widened, and he knew. Hadn't Walburga told him the night all this began that the Cycticero curse was a favorite of the Rosiers, and hadn't he joked that it "explained a lot about Aunt Druella…"

It hadn't been Evan Rosier after all.

"Guilty," she laughed.

"It's not funny! I could've died from that curse. Or gone mad."

"You look fine to me!" She tapped his cheek affectionally. "Some people think you're mad as it is."

"Did your mother teach you that trick, Bella?"

"Naturally. Mummy didn't neglect my education." She dragged her finger down the length of where the mark had been to his chin. It tingled, as if she had left a new mark there in its place. "You favor your right side too often when you feint, Sirius. You need to watch out for that next time."

Bella was instructing him the way she used to, when he was a boy. Would there even be a next time? Sirius thought, bleakly.

He forced himself to bite the inside of his cheek.

"What else did Colette hear you say about me?"

"Oh, they were all hoping that I'd finished you off—wishful thinking," Bella said, bluntly. "And then Malfoy ruined their fun by telling them you were at the Ministry this week."

A balloon of anxiety expanded in his chest.

"I…never saw Malfoy there."

"He saw you. Apparently he's had an interest…ever since he found out you were creeping about his house uninvited. Naughty-naughty Sobbie, strikes again."

Sirius's eyes widened, and he quickly schooled his features into a poker face.

"How did he find out it was me?" Sirius forced his voice to be cavalier. "Who told him?"

Did Malfoy know about Colette, too? Was that how Bellatrix had found all this out? Had she gone back to the house this morning and confessed the whole affair to Narcissa, in tears?

She wouldn't do that. Not willingly.

Bellatrix grinned, knowingly.

"It wasn't the girl. Though I suspect he knows you crossed her path that night." She narrowed her eyes. "How did that happen, by the way?"

"None of your damn business."

"You're really bothered about that French slag, aren't you?" Bella tapped her blood-red fingernails on the table. "I wouldn't have thought she'd be your type. Have you even done anything with her yet?"

"Why the hell are you asking that?"

Bellatrix watched him with the same horrible knowing quality that he associated with Lucretia, and the other women in their family. As if she knew all his secrets and found them amusing.

"Just curious." Her eyes glinted with cruel mischief. "I spent the better part of yesterday with her, so I've had plenty of time to inspect the goods, so to speak. I'm sure she's very impressed with you, not having a basis of comparison beyond Rabastan, but the, eh—blush doesn't seem to be far off the rose, if you know what I mean."

Sirius flushed.

"Oh—is widdle Sirius still a virgin?"

"Fuck off."

"I'll take that as a yes." She leaned back in her chair. "I know I ought to be glad you're not populating the world with half-blood bastards, but it's a bit underwhelming to learn you're all bark. I'm sure Aunt Walburga approves, though."

"Why would I care what she thinks?"

Bella rolled her eyes.

"Because we've an epidemic of men groveling for the favors of their mothers in this family." She eyed him over. "You know, if you want help with that particular problem, I'm sure there's someone here who'd oblige. Evan's always liked the look of you."

Sirius made an involuntary retching noise.

"He can fuck right off, too."

Madame Lestrange laughed.

"You've grown up a prude, Sirius. Just like your father." She cocked an eyebrow. "How was Christmas with your parents?"

"It was really nice," he said, automatically—then dropped the flask on the table. "Shit, Bella—you said this wasn't laced with anything."

"I lied," Bellatrix laughed. "Relax. It's not Veritaserum. Just something to take the edge off. Little more than the equivalent of a couple of drinks. For the little lies—the ones you tell yourself."

"I don't lie to myself!"

"Sure you don't. Anyway, I thought it would make things more interesting if we were honest with each other." She picked it up and took another sip. "I'm not afraid of the truth, Sirius—are you?"

He glowered at her.

"It won't make you spill any of Albus Dumbledore's secrets, if that's what you're worried about." She sniffed. "Not that you even know any. You're not exactly one of the world's great spies, are you? If there's anything the last week has proven, it's that."

He stared at her, trying to guess her motives in such a reckless plan. Bellatrix was right that he didn't feel anything more than the pleasant sensation of too much champagne to the head. If he could keep her talking—if she was telling the truth, which was about as likely as house elves becoming trade unionists—perhaps he'd learn something to his advantage from her. Everything she'd ever accused him of—in dueling and in life—she was doubly guilty of herself.

And his wand was still right there.

"So you had a good time yesterday, did you? What a surprise. Christmas seemed unbearable for you, those last few years before your absconcion."

"My parents were on their best behavior," Sirius said, in a softer voice. "I suppose we've all…learned from our mistakes."

"Or they've got better at hiding their true intentions," she laughed. "Even you're not immune to the siren call of the blood, it would seem."

Bella gave him a challenging look, but Sirius refused to take her bait. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction of thinking it had crossed his mind that every sympathetic moment with his family the past few weeks had been an illusion.

"It was about as good a Christmas as one could hope for. A lot of gold was spent, there were too many puddings. I now have a set of dress robes in every color and brocade combination possible. It was all fine."

"I'm sensing a caveat in that word."

"Alright, it was fine—until the end," he snapped back.

"What happened at the end?"

"My father took me out on the balcony and—told me he's dying."

Bellatrix lowered the flask to the table. Her expression was opaque, but her cousin knew that this, at least, was not a secret she'd expected him to spill.

"How like my uncle—always thinking of keeping spirits up." She pushed the drink towards Sirius. "Did he tell you what from?"

"Something to do with the heart. I don't think he's even been to the hospital. But he's convinced of the gravity of it, and for Orion Black his own conviction is as good as a death sentence. He'll probably schedule a date and time to snuff it in advance in his diary."

Sirius snorted, but Bellatrix, for her part, did not laugh.

"Who knows about this?"

"Just me. And now you." He took another drink from her flask. "He made me promise not to tell anyone. In a way I'm grateful to have the excuse of this. It was confessed under extreme interrogation while I was held captive by my cousin. You can tell everyone for me."

"Don't be dramatic," she murmured, softly. "I said I'm going to let you go, and I will."

"Color me skeptical."

She watched him, less like the cat at a mouse-hole and more with genuine curiosity.

"How did you feel when he told you?"

Sirius rounded on her.

"Like shit, of course! How would you feel if you found out your dad was going to pop off on Christmas night?"

She thought about it.

"Annoyed that he was leaving me to deal with Mummy, probably."

"Don't give me that," Sirius scoffed. "You'd be sorry, Bella—you would. You'd miss that sod."

"What's there to miss? His womanizing? At his funeral I expect a harem to show up with a pack of bastards grasping for our gold."

Sirius waved his finger.

"I'll concede there's—something to your assertion about the men in this family—if you'll admit the women are just the same with their fathers." Bellatrix grimaced. "Look at Lucretia. She may say she hates Arcturus, but she's still in his thrall, over-awed by him. To her he'll always be some evil pagan god, to be feared and worshiped in equal measure. And you're no better."

"My father is fat, licentious, and only thinks of his own pleasures. He's about as far from a god as it is possible to be."

"Not to you. You're the only person in the family that has always liked him. And it went both ways. Your father'd let you get away with anything short of murder. Maybe even that."

"Of course. I'm the closest he'll ever get to a son."

She couldn't disguise her bitterness, not even with the heavy sarcasm that she'd employed like a suit of armor. Bella's frankness meant more to Sirius than he expected.

"You know, your sister says the exact same thing."

The slap was sharper than her husband's, more like a viper strike, and it left a buzzing sensation in his ears.

Sirius raised a finger to the corner of his mouth and felt the drop of fresh blood rising from the spot she'd struck him. He looked up—Bella had been so enraged that she'd risen from the table to give herself a better angle from which to hit him. He watched her chest rise and fall in an uneven bursts, the effects of a sudden, violent surge of emotion.

Well, so much for family bonding.

"I'm sorry," he said, with genuine regret. "It didn't occur to me you'd still be bothered about it, after all this time."

Bellatrix's breathing slowed.

"I should not have done that." She sounded less apologetic than disappointed in herself for her lack of control. "But you should have known better than to bring up that traitorous bitch."

"I can't help that I feel akin to Andromeda."

"Of course you can!" Bella snapped. "You're nothing like her. What you did was a stupid, childish bid for attention. What she did was unforgivable."

Sirius frowned. She really meant that, but he couldn't understand what difference she saw in their actions.

"Why do you care that Andi ran off with Ted, anyway?" he asked. "You never got on. You don't like her anymore than you do Narcissa."

Bellatrix sat back down, smoothing her ruffled feathers. It occurred to her cousin that she was a little embarrassed at her outburst, and what it had revealed about her.

"They are my sisters, Sirius. Liking doesn't come into the equation. You should know better than anyone that's not how family works."

No, Sirius realized. That's not how family works.

"In matters of blood," she continued. "Loyalty is all that matters."

"Yeah, well, I don't have loyalty."

"I think you do," she replied, bluntly. "More than Andromeda, at any rate."

He picked up the cigarette packet and took one out. Sirius held it out to Bella—to his surprise, she lit it for him. They sat in uneasy silence for a long while, any pretense at camaraderie out the window.

He wondered if Bella regretted drinking from the forbidden cup with him.

"Look," Sirius broke the silence at last. "The Battancourt girl never told me what she overheard, and as you just did, you obviously don't consider it much of a secret. Forget about her. All she's guilty of is curiosity."

"A quality that, so the saying goes, sometimes kills."

Bella was all business again.

"A failing, but not a sin." He took a puff from the fag. "Whatever she heard, I'm sure she didn't understand it."

"Is this you channeling your father and being chivalrous, Sirius, or are you actually that fucking naive?" Bella snapped, losing her patience. "You really think a witch can't figure something out, unless you tell it to her?"

"That's not what I meant!" Sirius replied. "I just meant…that she's nothing to do with any of this."

Bellatrix's eyes narrowed.

"Considering where you met her, I find that very hard to believe."

Sirius tapped the ash directly onto the antique table. He pretended to look around the room. On the wall he noticed a faded tapestry of the Black family crest, hanging near the only door.

Odd, to see that in this house. Bella would've brought it over when they married. The room had to be one only she used. The second floor, perhaps…that was where the private chambers of the family always were, in castles like this. It didn't feel cold enough to be a dungeon.

But did what floor of the house the room you were going to die in really matter, in the end?

"Where's Malfoy?" he said, suddenly. "Why isn't he in here, contributing to your interrogation efforts?"

She accepted the question with more patience than her husband would've.

"Why would I need Lucius's help?"

"Because you must've found out I was at Arcturus's party from him," said Sirius. "It stands to reason. You weren't there that night. Someone had to tell you about our little operation—and Malfoy was the one who had the tip-off."

"How shameless you've grown!" Bella laughed, coldly. "You creep about Lucius's house, spying on your own family with scum, and don't even bother denying it!"

Almost a word-for-word replica of Orion's scold that night. Sirius considered telling her. God, how she'd hate having aped him of all relatives.

"I don't see the point in denials. We wouldn't be here if you didn't know of my involvement for certain. Far be it from me to impugn the raw animal cunning of a Black female—or waste her time."

She considered him for a moment, looking less like a cat eyeing a vole, and more like one guarding its territory from an encroaching stray.

"Perhaps I have my own sources," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

"Maybe. Or maybe you're chummy with Malfoy, and he told you all about it."

Her nostrils flared, just like his mother's did when she'd been caught on the back-foot. Nailed it in one. The Crabbe nostrils never lied.

"Lucius doesn't like me meddling in his affairs."

"How did he know it was me?" Sirius sat up straight. "Come on—I'll be dead by the end of the evening anyway. Satisfy my curiosity."

She sighed and gave him a look that said she was humoring him.

"He saw you talking to Longbottom at the Ministry—or one of his paid lackeys did, anyway—and he surmised that you were the second man who had accompanied him that night." She wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Really, Sirius—bringing an Auror to a family party! How gauche."

In other words—Malfoy had known Frank was coming, but not him?

How would he have known any of it? It was decided the day before, and only Moody, Dumbledore, Frank and I knew.

There was something he should be grasping, but it was just out of reach.

"I don't consider Malfoy family." Sirius paused, using the cigarette as a stall for time. "What did old Lucius want at the Ministry, the day he saw me there?"

"Lucius was trying to discover how you escaped from his house—alive. He determined that it was impossible to do…without assistance."

"Does he think Colette Battancourt was the one who helped me?"

"Oh, no—no—" Bellatrix shook her head. "He thinks it was your father."

Sirius shifted his weight in the chair—a casual gesture, meant to conceal his alarm. Shit.

"Did he tell you why he thinks that?"

"Lucius has his reasons. He came to me for counsel. He asked me if I thought it was plausible that your father would help you escape—if he were the one who caught you."

Sirius had the vague sense that he ought to be wondering why she was saying all this to him, because he understood, with a raw, gut animal instinct that he could not be rationally argued out of, no matter how hard one tried, that she was not lying to him.

"What did you tell him?"

She picked up the broken pieces of the pen that he had given Colette as a Christmas gift—the sight of which had sent him tearing across the country, fearful that the recipient had suffered the same fate.

"That is was…possible," she drawled. "That my uncle would always take the path that would embarrass him the least, and if hiding your infiltration could facilitate that, he would do it."

"So you agree with Malfoy's theory, then?"

She dropped the broken bits of the pen on the table.

"Given what I've learned about your little paramour, I don't know what to think."

Sirius watched her expression, studying the face for tells. How much did she really know about Colette?

Could all this be a bluff?

"You could have spared yourself a lot of wasted time if you'd just asked your sister," Sirius said, finally. "She would have told you that Colette Battancourt never left the ballroom the whole night. She didn't have the chance to help me, even if she'd wanted to. As it is, we met that evening."

"She knows who you are," Bella said, softly.

"She didn't then. All she knew was that I was an imposter. I had a bit of bad luck—ran into her the next day. She discovered I was the bloke at the party by complete chance, and I agreed to take her out and amuse her to keep her from tipping off Narcissa I was in the house the night before. Which was obviously a waste of time, as Malfoy apparently figured it out on his own."

"You didn't see her just the one time, though."

It wasn't a question.

"Well, you know—I guess the bird enjoyed herself." Sirius forced himself to smirk—never an expression that had come naturally to him. "I'll admit, there was something amusing about sneaking her out under my mother's nose and corrupting one of Cissy's stuck-up prissy little friends. But that's all it's been. A lark."

"Oh, Sirius. That's a dangerous game to be playing." Her eyes glittered. "Don't you remember—Cissy doesn't like it when you play with her toys."

"She likes it even less when you break them."

Bellatrix smiled and nodded—the closest Sirius was going to get to the admission he'd landed a blow.

"She's nothing else to me," he lied. "And she had nothing to do with my escape from Malfoy Manor."

"So you're saying that Lucius was right about your father, then?"

Sirius considered his options in this scenario for the two seconds he thought he could get away with not speaking before he answered.

"Who else could spoil my night so perfectly?" He said. "It's just like you said—all he cared about was not looking like a fool in front of Arcturus and getting me out of the house before my mother found out I was there. It wasn't exactly the father-son reunion I'd always dreamed of, but at least it was short. He'd have done anything to get rid of me."

Bellatrix raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"That was the first time you'd seen Uncle Orion in three years?"

"Of course," he lied, effortlessly. "Luckily, he didn't have a chance to ask any questions."

"And what about the French girl?"

"She was curious about why I was there—I gave her a line about meeting someone and not wanting my family to find out. She bought it."

"Did your father?"

"He didn't want to know the details—but his silence had a price, too."

She waited for him to explain.

"My father is not above a spot of blackmail. He caught me with my hand in the biscuit jar—I had to make nice to keep him from talking. He convinced me to come back on my hands and knees, contrite, begging her for forgiveness for my wicked ways. Christmas with them. That's how they ended up at my place. Orion's working on Arcturus, so he wants to keep my miraculous reformation quiet for now."

"So that's what this little reconciliation between you is about," she said in a low voice. "And if he's as ill as you say, he'd want to get his affairs in order before he goes."

Bellatrix picked up the watch again, and examined the outside.

"You must've done a good job—apparently you even convinced him your contrition was genuine."

Sirius snorted.

"The two of them are delusional. They believe what they want to believe. You know how it is. Speaking of, how was your Christmas, Bella?"

She laughed, bitterly.

"Oh, you can imagine. Papa getting slowly drunk, while Mummy had vapors in the corner. Everyone fawning over Cissy, just because she's managed to procreate. It was revolting."

"Many happy returns."

"I wish you'd stayed at Number Twelve on Christmas Eve, instead of running off with your paramour. I'd have preferred to talk to you than any of them."

Sirius didn't know what was worse—the fact that he knew Bellatrix was not lying to him, or the realization that in some ways he felt the same. There was something strangely bracing about talking to her.

No conventions had to be followed—at least not with any consistency worth keeping track of.

"This is the first interesting conversation I've had with a member of our family in years." She sighed, her restless eyes darting around the room in that look Sirius recognized—the caged lion, seeking escape, or if that was absent—a zebra. "One gets so tired of all the artifice and the double-talk. That's what I like about you—you always say what you think."

"You're the biggest liar of the lot of them. You'll even lie about liking me."

Bellatrix grinned.

"That's not a lie, at least. I can't promise about the rest."

"Tell me, Bella, as fun as this little chat has been, I'd love to get to the point. What's it going to take to get my wand back, then?"

She sized him up. He could tell she was getting tired of playing with her food.

"Reassurance of your cooperation," Bellatrix said, at last.

"You did tell your husband you just needed to make sure I'd behave myself. I'm happy to oblige, but you're going to have to be a bit more specific."

Bella's lip curled up.

"If you're coming back into the family fold, it occurs to me we'll be seeing each other more often. Perhaps you can…keep me informed, from time to time. I'm not asking for much."

Sirius stood up, all pretense at rapprochement forgotten.

"You think I'd spy for you?"

"Why not?" Bellatrix shrugged. "It's what they think you do already. Might as well make it the truth."

"Nobody thinks that of me!"

"Please." Bellatrix's eyes gleamed. "Of course they do. They may be scum, but even scum knows its own kind. You have more in common with the people in this house than that Order fifth. They know you belong with us as much as you do."

"That's a matter of opinion."

"No, it's an objective fact. Be honest with yourself, Sirius. Those people don't trust you. They think you bungled that mission on purpose, don't they?"

He thought of Mad-Eye, of Frank…

It's not true.

Except, hadn't that very thought crossed his mind when he'd been in Mad Eye's office? Hadn't he always, deep down, wondered if his friends thought he was more like his family than he was them?

Hadn't he always been afraid that he was?

Madame Lestrange smiled and eased back into her chair.

"This is a generous offer, Sirius. A gesture of good will from one family member to another. Don't look a gift hippogriff in the mouth."

Her eyes gleamed, like a woman about to play a winning trump care.

"I don't need you, you see. I've already got someone. And not in the Ministry. In your Order."

She waited for the other shoe to drop, for him to realize what she meant. Realization slowly dawned on Sirius's face.

It had to be a bluff. There was—there was no way—

"You're lying," he breathed. "If you had a spy, you'd never ask me to do it."

Bella smirked.

"Wouldn't I? If I need a little inside information—I'd rather it be from a member of my own family, that's all. Unlike you, I don't actually associate with vermin by choice."

There was no way she had a spy—it wasn't possible. Bella wouldn't flat-out tell him to his face, if she did.

…Would she?

He tried to read her expression, to see the bluff, but as usual, she gave little away. The trick was to piss her off, that's what he needed to do.

"What exactly is the sort of information you'd be interested in?"

She nodded, approvingly.

"Seeing reason?"

"Don't get excited." Sirius rolled his eyes. "I want to speed the process along, that's all. You're obviously not going to let me go or kill me until we have this conversation—so let's have it out. What do you want?"

"Nothing too taxing. I wouldn't want to give away your position. I need someone on the inside that can't be traced." She leaned forward. "I'll need a show of good-faith before I can give you this back."

His eyes lingered on the pocket that still held his wand. Sirius looked back up, straight into her eyes. They gleamed, as if she knew she'd already won. In some small way he couldn't quantify, Sirius felt as though he was seeing her for what she was for the first time in his life.

"What do you want to know?"

Bellatrix gave the matter some thought—or pretended to.

"Who told you Rabastan was passing along a message that night?"

Sirius stared into those fathomless eyes—he refused to blink. He prayed, internally, with a kind of fevered desperation that he needed to keep caged inside, a chained-up circus bear, that whatever latent Black talent for hiding the truth from his eyes he had hitherto not exhibited would make itself known now, at the critical moment.

"Dumbledore just gives me orders," he said, at last. "He doesn't tell me where he gets his information."

"Just because he doesn't tell you, doesn't mean you don't know." The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. "You must at least have an idea of who it was."

"What's the matter with your spy?" Sirius jeered, trying to hide his nervousness. "Coming up short this time?"

"I wouldn't say that," she drawled. "He was the one who told Lucius you were coming, after all." Sirius's smile dropped. "How do you think Malfoy knew to expect you? No, I'm afraid he's given me as much as he can, in this case—and he's no use on this. It's an…internal affair."

"What do you mean?"

She dropped the amused and indulgent look of a fond relative for a more sober expression.

"One of our number has betrayed us, Sirius. I want to know who it is. I want you to tell me."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She picked up the now empty flask.

"See? I told you this stuff wasn't that strong. If you've a mind for it, you can lie through your teeth."

Sirius set his jaw.

"The situation is very simple. The only people who knew about that message being passed at the party were Death Eaters. That means that we've a traitor in our midst. Someone of our number told Dumbledore. If you tell me who it was, I'll let you walk out of here and into the drawing room. You can have a drink with your girlfriend and go back and report the name of every damn person you saw to that mudblood-lover Dumbledore. I think that's a more than generous trade."

She knows.

"And if I refuse?"

Her eyebrow quirked up.

Fucking hell, she knows.

"By your own admission, you hate us all. Surely you're not going to have a prickle of conscience over whatever Death Eater was stupid enough to betray his master?" She put her hands behind her back. "Whoever it is, he will die. Sooner or later. Why not profit by it in the meantime? You could at least save your own skin."

He rose up, righteous fury overtaking the little common sense he had left.

"I would rather die than—"

"—Than what?" Bellatrix cut him off, coldly. "Than let a traitor get his just desserts? Or perhaps you're afraid of betraying someone."

Sirius fell back down in his chair.

"I can understand that. I don't much care for betrayal, myself. I think the punishment for it should be death."

"What is this really about?" Sirius asked. "Why is it you wanted me here—truly?"

"You know what I'm asking."

"You don't need me to tell you what you already know, Bellatrix."

Bella stared at him, her eyes dancing—she looked as mad as Sirius had ever seen her.

"When we were children, Sirius, do you remember how we used to play hide-and-seek?"

"Colette…she's not even here, is she? She was never here."

Bella smiled, delighted—an a-ha, now you've got it, silly boy look.

"She wasn't when I last checked. There's always a chance she'll come with Narcissa. I doubt it, though. She had left Malfoy's house by the time Cissy woke up this morning. At first I thought she'd gone with you, but Cissy had a note from the aunt after breakfast, thanking her for being such a kind hostess. If she knows what's good for her she'll have gone back to France by now. So you can sleep easy on that score…no virgin sacrifices tonight." Bella smiled evilly. "Well, maybe only one."

He'd come all this way for no reason.

"You've been—stalling for time."

His cousin ignored him.

"Hide-and-seek. It was the only game all of us could understand, you two being such babies. Do you remember who was always the best at hiding?"

Bellatrix's words barely penetrated his consciousness. He remembered what his grandmother always used to say, about the fog around one's mind always being thickest right before a burst of clarity.

"You brought me here for some—some other reason."

"Who was the best at hiding?" Bella repeated.

And there it was.

"Regulus. Regulus was always best at hiding."

Bella nodded.

"Good old Reggie." His cousin smiled at remembrances of days long gone. "So small, so unobtrusive—there's not a cupboard out there he couldn't find his way into the back of. I'm convinced he'd still be there, if we hadn't taken it upon ourselves to act drastically. What did he always used to do to ferret him out—do you remember?"

Realization sank in, slowly—then all at once—like a petal deteriorating in acid.

"I would…pretend there was something wrong. I would cry out. No matter how often I pulled that trick—he'd always fall for it."

She smiled.

"He'd come running out, to save you—every time."

---

The sound of banging at her back door jerked Mrs. Potter so violently from her sleep that she tumbled off the sofa and straight onto the sitting room floor.

"Damn!" Lily croaked, rubbing the knee she had banged against the coffee table. "James! Who is it?"

The early winter English drabness made it very difficult for Lily to tell if it was three in the afternoon or midnight. She blamed the pregnancy for her recent bout of falling asleep at odd hours of the day and in odd places.

"James—get the door, would you, darling?"

Her husband did not reply.

The knocking persisted. Rapid, but somehow still polite. No James Potter coming to the rescue. Lily grumbled as she got to her feet, cursing her husband, the effects of pregnancy and whoever it was that thought of putting the back door so far from the sofa.

When Lily opened the door, irritation gave way to shock at the sight of the figure standing before her.

"Oh, Mrs. Potter!"

Colette Battancourt, soaked to her skin, pale and shivering in her fine silk-cloak that looked better suited to an opera house than a wet night, promptly burst into tears and flung herself into Lily's arms.

"Colette—what happened?" Lily pulled Colette into the house. "You need to calm down."

Miss Battancourt thrust herself away from Lily. Her pale face shifted rapidly from chalk white to scarlet.

"There is no time to be calm!"

Lily watched, amazed, as Colette Battancourt began to wave her arms above her head, speaking rapidly in a semi-incoherent pigeon French-English while pacing about the kitchen in obvious distress.

"Colette—Colette, darling, please sit down—I'll make you a cup of tea."

The French girl turned on her heel so abruptly that Lily started.

"Tea? Non, I do not want tea." Her voice rose to a hysterical pitch. "Is that all you English think about?"

Lily grasped Colette by the shoulders and steered her towards a chair at the kitchen table. The girl reluctantly allowed herself to be forced down into it.

"Why don't you start at the beginning?" Colette looked down at her feet. Her whole body trembled. "God, you're soaking wet. Where did you come from?"

Lily waved her wand over the shivering girl—her clothing instantly dried. Colette's hair still stuck up at odd angles, a tangled mess with leaves and twigs stuck in it—she looked nothing like the fairy tale princess that Sirius had brought to Lily's house the day before yesterday.

"I—don't know where, exactly," Colette said, finally. "Somewhere in Cornwall. I got back to my great-aunt's house very early this morning." She looked up. "I could not—I did not want to talk to her, and I needed to think—so I went for a long walk—a very long walk. For…hours, I do not know, I did not check my watch. I do not even know where I was, or where I was going and then—and then—"

"And then…?"

Colette bit her lip and screwed up her face, as if she was summoning the courage to admit to a great transgression.

"And then I—stopped because I wanted to write something in my diary!"

Mrs. Potter blinked. Whatever she'd been expecting, it wasn't that.

"Your…diary?"

Lily wondered if she was still dreaming. The girl pulled out the aforementioned book from her cloak and waved it in Lily's face.

"The lock. The spell." She flipped through the pages. "It was broken by someone—don't you understand?"

Lily stared at notebook, then up at Colette's face. She really didn't understand, in fact. Well, there was one part of the story she had suspicions about.

"You were wandering about the countryside for hours before this. Are you—sure that's all you're upset about?" Colette's face flushed, and Lily knew she'd hit the mark. "Darling…you haven't had a row with Sirius, have you?"

Colette stood up and if Lily had any doubts about her suspicions, the heavy flush to the cheeks and the slightly murderous flash in the younger girl's eyes dispelled them.

"I do not want to talk to him. This has nothing to do with him."

And I'm the ghost of Christmas yet to bloody come.

"Right," said Lily, voice dubious. "If this isn't about Sirius, why did you come here?"

"Because I need your husband's help."

It was then that Lily noticed a note sitting on the table. She picked it up and read the hasty scrawl of her husband, informing her that he'd been called up to Scotland by Aberforth of the Hog's Head (what could he want?), not to worry, and that he would be back soon. James had never exactly been a careful person, he could fly off without explaining himself in the best of times, but even she was surprised he hadn't woken her up before he tore off to the other side of Britain.

And of course, 'soon' meant very little when the note had been written Merlin knew when.

"He's not at home." He's probably dealing with the fallout of whatever has happened between you and that idiot. "Why do you think you need his help?"

"Because I need to warn Regulus Black about the Death Eaters!"

Lily, who up until now had been torn between laughing at the absurdity of the first fight in any couple's relationship and ready to kill Sirius, felt the sand shift beneath her proverbial feet.

"What did you say?"

"I fear he is in great danger. I hoped your husband would take me to the flat in—" Colette frowned and scrunched up her forehead, trying to recall the word. "—Lisson Grove?"

Lily's expression changed.

"Why do think Regulus is in London? Did Sirius tell you?"

"Non. I know that is where he has been hiding these weeks, though. In his brother's flat, where his parents visit him," Colette said, and she once again had that unconsciously naive quality that Lily had seen from her at the start. "Ever since he—left the Death Eaters and took up with your Order of the Phoenix."

Lily stared hard at the girl. Gone was the sweet mother-to-be, in her place, a seasoned fighter in the Order of the Phoenix with ten thousand questions and very aware that she needed to be careful which she prioritized.

"That is why I need your husband's help. He is a member of this Order, is he not?"

"Yes—but so am I. I can help you just as well as he can."

Colette turned red.

"Oh! I am sorry. I should have known they allowed women. The Death Eaters do, too, I think."

"Yes, this war is very equal-opportunity that way. What does your diary have to do with Regulus?"

The girl shifted her weight between both legs—the classic sign of guilt, in Lily's estimation.

"I…I may have written what I…suspected was true…on a letter that I found in his room, the night he—the night everyone thinks he went to France."

"And this letter…you put it in your diary? And it's missing now."

Colette nodded, guilt and petrification in equal measures on her face. Lily let out a shuddering sigh.

"And who are you afraid took it?"

"Lucius Malfoy," Colette admitted, in a small voice.

Lily sucked in a breath—and opened and closed her mouth several times before she managed to squeak out—

"What in Merlin's name—"

"—I told you!" Colette snapped. "There is no time to explain it all. We must warn Regulus. I am afraid somebody has gone to this flat and seized him already—"

"Colette….putting aside the question of why Lucius Malfoy would be in a position to read your diary—"

"—I have been staying in his house—"

"—Putting that aside, darling," Lily interrupted, in a firm voice. "We would know if something happened in the flat. It's the safest place Regulus could be in the world. That place has been enchanted by Albus Dumbledore himself, and there's always somebody there with him. Sirius was supposed to be there all day—"

"If that is what he is 'supposed to do'—" spat Colette, furious. "Let me tell you, he has not followed what he is supposed to do at all."

"So you did see him." Lily crossed her arms. "You two had a fight—don't deny it. Sirius Black has a certain effect on a woman's sanity, and you have all the classic symptoms."

Colette let out a string of broken French exasperations.

"I have already explained—this has nothing to do with him! I am only concerned with his brother. I think I have made a horrible mistake—one that it may already be too late to correct. Please, please take me to Regulus."

Lily uncrossed her arms and sighed.

"Alright," she said, at last. "I'll take you to the flat. You can tell Regulus what you want to tell him, and when we find him and Sirius there, you can sort out whatever it is that's happened between you."

"I hate him," muttered Colette. "I never want to see him again for as long as I live."

"Yes," Lily muttered, summoning her cloak from the peg by the door. "That sounds familiar."

---

Sirius opened his mouth, but found his tongue had turned to sandpaper, and words were impossible to form, through no fault of magic.

"Bella…don't do anything stupid."

"You mean, I shouldn't follow in your footsteps?"

She pulled out Sirius's wand and examined it, with that casual, feline grace that had always toed the line between beautiful and terrifying. This was like trying to reason with a sphinx once you'd got the riddle wrong.

"Bellatrix…"

"I went by Grimmauld Place yesterday. I don't know why. I knew they wouldn't be there. I suppose I just…hoped I was wrong." Bellatrix clenched her fist around the wand. "I thought about popping 'round your flat after and wishing everyone a happy Christmas."

"Why didn't you?"

"I don't like causing family scenes, Sirius," Bella said, her voice grave. "I'm not you."

He had a horrible, sinking feeling.

"Besides, it's all so untidy. There's all kinds of spells on the place, as I understand it. Who knows what nasty people setting them off could bring. And I prefer to keep these things…in the family."

"This isn't going to work, Bella," Sirius said, quietly. "He's not going to come."

"I know what you're thinking. You're blaming yourself. And you should, Sirius. Because this is your fault. If you had done your duty, Reggie would be safely tucked away in bed right now, with dreams of some cozy Ministry posting dancing through his head, and you would be downstairs with your own kind, where you belong. But you had to be a bad son, and that's cost you your brother. It doesn't have to cost you everything else."

Bellatrix shook her head.

"Your poor parents. You were their favorite, you know," she continued, quietly. "Poor Regulus—even after this much time…he's never been able to crawl out of your shadow. He tries, but…well, he doesn't have it. Everyone in the family sees it, too."

The thought of Regulus made his insides twist. He'd been sleeping like the dead when Sirius finally worked up the courage to go inside his room to grab his trunk, and he hadn't the courage to wake Reg up—or to tell him the truth in the feeble note he'd left. What was the last thing he had said to his brother? Pass the bread pudding, please?

If it wasn't worth remembering now, it wasn't worthy of a final conversation. There was so much still left unsaid between them…so much he had to apologize for.

And he never would, now.

"You don't know what it did to them when you ran out." Bella's eyes gleamed in the pale light of the candles. She looked thoughtful. "Or maybe you do. You've turned them against the family, after all."

"I have not turned them against the family!" Sirius spat, furiously—and he was surprised to find that amidst the fear and adrenaline coursing through his veins, he was insulted on his parents' behalf. "They care more about the damned family than anything in the world. They would never betray the family."

She picked up the family watch and dangled it in front of his face once more.

"Perhaps you underestimate your influence."

She shook her head, and tutted—disappointed as ever. Bellatrix opened the watch and pulled out a small piece of parchment that had been wedged inside. His cousin unfolded it with expert care.

"You haven't checked the time since you got this, have you?"

She handed him the note. Sirius looked down at it, at the familiar, perfect script.

I passed your message along to its intended recipient. Consider your mission fulfilled. Happy Christmas. Your Father, OAB.

Sirius stared at the words for what felt like an hour.

"It's very touching. He even had it engraved for you."

She slid the watch, still open, across the table. On the inside of the front case was the date and his initials.

All the denials that should have sprung to his lips failed him.

"I might've expected this betrayal from Uncle Orion—he's weak, soft like your brother. But not my aunt. I've always admired her—I thought she had real pride. I was wrong though." Her face showed utmost disappointment, "Her mothering instincts took over, in the end."

The realization of her favorite aunt's weakness filled her with obvious disgust.

"You were my favorite, too. You're more akin to me than Cissy or Andromeda ever were." Bellatrix studied his reaction, her mouth twisted in a smile at his palpable anger. "And I'm more akin to you than Regulus—"

"You don't know a damn thing about my brother—or me."

Bellatrix gave him an indulgent smile. She reached over and patted her cousin on the cheek.

"Oh, I do. I've known you since the day you were born. I remember a time when you looked up to me, Sirius—used to follow me around—you were quite devoted." She screwed up her face it what was presumably in imitation of a young boy. " 'Bella, Bella—show me the spell! Teach me how to do it! I can't wait until I can do as many curses as you!'"

Her horrible, high-pitched schoolboy taunts made it all a thousand times worse. He screwed his eyes shut, as if that could block it out.

"Don't look like that—it wasn't that long ago." When Sirius opened his eyes again, her look was colder. "I never minded. I always saw myself in you—even if you were an insolent, spoiled brat." Bella laughed, humorlessly. "At least you had spirit—and fight. You still do." She looked at him, almost fondly. "It's completely wasted, of course."

"I am nothing like you, Bellatrix, d'you hear me?" Sirius said, righteously angry—and that had wiped out all his fear, at least for the moment. "You're a murderer."

Nothing about this accusation phased her.

"And you're a botched murderer—is that any different, really?"

"What are you talking about?" he demanded, with sickly dread. A bead of sweat trickled down his wrist.

"I hear rumors about you. Nasty ones. Is it true you set your half-breed pal on Severus Snape—sent him to the Shrieking Shack on the full moon?"

"Who told you that?"

When Sirius didn't bother to hide his shock, she laughed again, apparently delighted at the confirmation.

"So it is true," she grinned, evilly. "I thought it sounded like you. How is it Dumbledore didn't expel you? It seems that would offend even his sensibilities."

"It was…he was very close to it."

He was so thrown off by the line of questioning it didn't even occur to him to lie.

"You're good at getting out of tight corners." She leaned back on the table, still smiling. "I can't blame you. That half-blood really is such a greasy little bootlicker." Bella gave him an approving smile. "It's only right you should've put him in his place. And if you're going to keep company with a beast," she continued, casually, ignoring the look of horror on her younger cousin's face. "You should make good use of it."

"I thought you liked Snape."

"Oh, he has his uses—Lucius thinks so, anyway." She shrugged, dismissively. "I'm less convinced."

"You mean he's—he's one of your lot?"

That Snape was a Death Eater should not have been a surprise—but the impassive shrug from Bellatrix gave that revelation a definitive air of anti-climax.

"Of course." She leaned over and gave him a conspiratorial look. "Do you want to finish the job?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Snape. He's here tonight, you know. I can call him—I'll give you your wand back and stick him in the room. You can have some fun."

He stared at her, incredulously.

"…Why the hell would you do that?" Sirius asked, very slowly, his face white.

"Call it a—gesture of familial good will." She twirled her wand again. "I'll let you finish what you started. Don't pretend you wouldn't enjoy it."

He stared at he for a full fifteen seconds, not sure if she was joking or not. Was this her idea of a bizarre initiation ritual, or did she think he'd actually enjoy doing something like that?

"How does it work, exactly?" Sirius asked, in a would-be calm voice. "Does he get a wand, as well?"

"It would be more interesting if he was allowed one, wouldn't it?" Bellatrix said, voice brimming with amusement. "Whatever you prefer. I'm not fussed."

In spite of his dire straights, he had to laugh. She was treating this like a game, the bitch.

"No honor among Death Eaters, I guess."

At his laugh, Bella's expression turned rather cold.

"Oh, he hardly counts as one of us. He's an errand boy. All he does is pass messages from the Dark Lord to Dumbledore, and neither think he's worth bothering with, much." She smiled knowingly at the look of surprise on Sirius's face. "Oh…you didn't know about that?"

Sirius quickly recovered from the shock, and when he answered her, his expression was steely.

"I had enough of Snivellus in school—seven years of it," he said, coldly—passing over the news that Dumbledore apparently knew of Snape's dubious post-school career choices. "So I think I'll pass, thanks."

She looked like a little girl who had been denied a much anticipated treat.

"Aww—but I thought you loathed him."

"I do—" There was a slightly hysterical edge to his voice. "That doesn't mean I want to try to—to kill him!"

Bellatrix gave him a faintly skeptical look.

"You did once before," she pointed out.

"That is not what happened!"

"He seems to think it is."

"Snape's an idiot—it was a joke…just a laugh, you know?" Sirius shifted in his chair. "It wasn't like that—I'm not—"

He was alarmed to hear his own desperation so plainly—Sirius did not know why he needed to convince her of this so badly, only that he did. Her indulgent expression, the look of understanding and acceptance—was worse than anything he had been expecting from this audience—worse than the cursing and torture she might switch to any moment now, that Sirius found himself wishing for.

She stopped twirling the wand—gripped the handle, rigidly—and her expression changed. Bellatrix shed the big sisterly skin like a snake.

What she became was less easy to identify.

"Why do you do it, Sirius?" she asked, very softly.

"Do what?"

"Fight what you are—your own nature." Bella circled the table, and walked up beside him. He froze. "It's clearly so difficult for you—and it isn't working."

She was right. All he wanted to do was transform, to turn into a dog—and rip out her throat. In his manic state he did calculations, wondering if it was worth the risk? When have you ever asked that question before in your life?

The risk was always worth it. The risk was what made it fun.

"He's not going to come," he said. Even to his own ears, it sounded like a wish, a hope, a fool trying to convince himself.

"Forget about Regulus." She shrugged. "You can't help him anymore. It's your mama and papa you should be thinking of."

Sirius rose to his feet and let out an animal growl.

"You stay the fuck away from my parents."

"Aww…is little Sirius worried about his mummy and daddy?" She leaned over the table and leered. "What a change this is! To think you of all people are trying to protect them."

Sirius's tongue caught in his mouth. She raised an eyebrow, knowingly.

"What was it you said to your brother before you left—that they weren't fit to care for cats, let alone sons?" He clenched his jaw, and her smile grew wide again. "Regulus told me you said that out of all of us, they were the ones you hated most."

Sirius stared up at her, transfixed at his own words being thrown back in his face by her.

Bellatrix seemed less disturbed by it—she looked faintly amused.

"That was a cruel," Bella laughed. "And unnecessary. You know Reggie's delicate. I think we can safely assume he never told them—"

"Shut up!"

He didn't know why he said it, only that he could not bear to hear her speak more.

"—You always did have a cruel streak," she continued, as if she hadn't heard him. "You've got an instinct for it."

Bellatrix's eyes had a fanatical gleam in them.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, coldly, forcing himself to stare into those fathomless eyes—like so many in their family, identical to his own.

She tilted her head and smirked.

"It's the Black in you."

She picked up a small, unobtrusive box—one of the other objects that he'd stuck in his pocket the night before, in his frenzied, mad state. Bella pulled the seal that Walburga and Regulus had made for him out of its case and examined it.

"I assume this is supposed to be a personal crest. I like that it has the Black shield in the center. I can't say I much care for the substitution of one of the hounds for a lion, but I suppose when your mother designed it the idea was to make it yours."

Bellatrix laid it back down on the table and looked back at him.

"How very sentimental of her," Bella said, coldly. "It wasn't very bright to use it on a letter sent to my sister's house, however."

The letter this morning…Colette….

"You were rooting about her room last night," he said, in a dull voice. "You found the letter I sent her this morning. That's where you got the pen."

"I had some assistance with that, actually," she said, without shame. "A touching love token. Sorry I had to dismember it, but I needed you to get the message." She picked up the pieces of metal scattered on the table and tossed them in her hand. "I found her diary, too."

"Did you read it?"

"Please!" Bellatrix scoffed. "It was all in French, of course I didn't. I did find one interesting thing, though."

She pulled a scrap of parchment out of her pocket and handed it to him. Sirius unfolded it. He recognized his brother's handwriting at once.

I'm sorry.

"She must've found this in his room, when she was snooping about, as your paramour appears to be so fond of. She's even annotated it. In English, too—how thoughtful of her."

He squinted at the small, cramped note in the corner, in a handwriting that had become dear to him in the past week.

Lisson Grove—staying with S? Mr. and Mrs. B visit him

"That's the problem with writers," Sirius said, at last. "They like to write everything down."

"Did you really believe I'd think it was a coincidence that he disappeared the same night we caught you in Hogsmeade? That I'd actually believe Orion would have let you leave that party if it was the first time he'd seen you in three years?"

Sirius squeezed his eyes shut.

"The two of them never wanted to be mixed up in this. And they aren't helping me—"

"My uncle conspired with you." Her expression turned contemptuous. "You brought a blood traitor Auror into our midst—and he let you—"

"He didn't even know I was going to be there!" he cried. "He was so angry—to tell you the truth, I'm fairly certain my father wishes he had let Lucius catch me."

"He let you go, Sirius. And how did you know that Malfoy was the one who'd been tipped off? Uncle Orion told you, didn't he?" She tutted. "Careless, Sob…maybe you can't handle your liquor after all."

"He was just trying to save face, you know my father—" He forced a laugh—as if they were still cousins, could joke over this shared understanding of the eccentricities of Orion Black. "He can't stand to make a scene."

Bellatrix did not return the laugh.

"Sometime scenes have to be made," she said, voice dangerously low. "Sometimes…examples have to be made."

He was long past thinking there was any chance of escape. Nobody knew he was here, and he was in a room, alone, with Bella. He was going to die—and all Sirius cared about now was that he was the only one that did.

"They don't know anything, Bella—and you have nothing to gain by going after them—"

"Nothing to gain?" she repeated, haughtily. "From eliminating traitors?"

"Traitors?" he repeated, incredulously. "Traitors to whom?"

"To the only cause that matters," she said, coldly. "Uncle Orion gave our secrets to Dumbledore. And for what? Sentimentality. I can't let that stand—and go unpunished, can I? What if the Dark Lord should find out? He always knows. Better to make an example now than risk the whole family being culled."

"Are you even listening to yourself?" Sirius groped about for some anchoring point of sanity—as if there was one with her, a woman who had the cousin she claimed was her favorite tied up in her husband's house. "What—what the hell would your father say if he heard you?"

"I don't think he would approve much," she conceded. "Of course—in some ways he's no better."

Bellatrix paced in front of the table, like a caged animal about to be set loose.

"He let Andromeda walk away—let her breed, shame the family name even more." Sirius watched the anger play on her face—the beautiful features, so like his mother's, contorted in an ugly shape. "Andromeda told him what she intended before she left. He should have killed her before she brought that half-blood brat into the world."

He saw little Dora, her hair changing colors, tugging at her mother's hand.

"What the hell has happened to you, Bella?" Sirius asked—not just to fill the silence, to stall for time.

He wanted to know—for he barely recognized her.

Bellatrix ceased her frenetic pacing and turned and looked at him.

"Do you know why there is a sword at the center of the shield on the Black Family Crest, Sirius?" Bellatrix asked, quietly. "Do you remember from your heraldry lessons? No, I suppose you've forgotten that."

"Bella, I need you to listen to me—"

"This is the oldest part." She pointed at the center of the tapestry on the wall—the shield with two flanking stars and the sword below. "It was the personal escutcheon of the first member of our family to set foot on these shores. Ophiuchus wore it on his own shield, you know."

Ophiuchus Black the First—Sirius would not soon forget that name. Bellatrix continued her story, her low voice heavy with reverence.

"While my brother-in-law's ancestor Armand Malfoy was safe and warm, far from the killing fields, plying the Conquerer with his gold and magic, do you know where Ophiuchus was? He was on the front lines of battle, wand in one hand, sword in the other…killing Saxon wizards and mudbloods alike—they say he was known by the pile of bodies he left in his wake, and that he slaughtered nearly a thousand on the spot where the family house in Suffolk is."

He stared up at her. She had always had a way of spinning stories, and he found himself enthralled with the gruesome picture she painted.

"Blacks are warriors—that is our natural state. And we've forgotten it." Her expression darkened. "The family has grown indolent and weak. You and I, dear cousin—we're the only true Blacks left."

"I think most of our relatives would disagree," Sirius said, not able to restrain himself from being sarcastic, even in these, most dire circumstances.

"And most of them are fools," Bellatrix said, calmly. "You know, in some ways—I can't blame you for wanting out. With what our family has come to—all that gold and parties and arrogance—we've grown weak. And it's not just the Blacks—it's all of the purebloods. But as the greatest among them, we bear the greatest responsibility for the state of things."

He stopped struggling—Sirius didn't understand what she was driving at. She must've seen the genuine curiosity in his expression, for she smiled at him, pleased at having his attention at last.

"Do you think the Dark Lord wants this?"

"As he's the one who is causing it all," Sirius said, sarcastically. "Yeah, I kind of figured he did."

"This is our fault, Sirius—or rather, our parents' and grandparents' fault. You reap what you sow, little cousin. They grew fat and lazy, like my dear papa and yours, and let the mudbloods think they're our equals and left us to clean up their mess. If a little blood gets on the linen, if a few weak links have to be snapped off the chain…if a few die—they should understand. They brought us to this point, after all."

"What are you on about?"

"If this is what the family has come to, it's what we deserve," Her heavily-lidded eyes gleamed. "Nothing is safe from death—not even the Black name."

Sirius turned deathly pale. 'The Black name'—a rather euphemistic term for Sirius's father, brother and himself.

"And you're all about helping with the purge, Bellatrix, is that it?"

"I do not wish it," she said, quietly. "But if it can't be helped…"

That was not the answer he wanted to hear.

"Come on, Bellatrix—it's the family!" he said, knowing full-well that this was not the kind of woman you could reason with. "You wouldn't go against your family like that."

"If a family tree is diseased, what worth does it have?"

"So it's better that you burn the entire fucking thing to the ground?"

She toyed with her wand again, thoughtfully.

"Not the entire thing. I don't want to kill you, for example."

He started to laugh again at the absurdity of that—when she had him tied up unarmed in windowless room.

"Yeah, right—only you and your mates have been trying to for over a year—"

"That was only how it was at first," Bellatrix corrected him, with an eerie calm that reminded him, disturbingly enough, of his father. "I was able to persuade him you'd be more useful alive. You should be thanking me, little cousin. If I hadn't—rest assured, you would be dead. I'd have killed you myself, for being such a filthy blood-traitor."

The bottom of his stomach seemed to fall out.

"He knows what you're capable of. You have everything he values in a soldier, Sirius—loyalty, courage, spirit—pure blood. If Regulus had been less of a weakling and done his job, you'd already be on our side."

She lowered her voice to a reverent hush.

"People don't realize how merciful the Dark Lord is, you know. Whatever you've done up until now will be forgiven."

Sirius was too stuck on the last thing she'd said to care about Voldemort's supposed beneficence.

"What do you mean, Reg didn't do his job?"

"They really don't tell you anything, do they? That's what the message was. Regulus was supposed to prove himself by bringing you to our side. And if he couldn't, he was to bring the Dark Lord your head."

What she was saying…it made no sense, and yet…hadn't Dumbledore said it that night, when he'd suggested so cavalierly that if they wanted him that badly, you'd think they'd bother to recruit?

"Oh—that was your brother's job, I'd imagine."

"I…knew…I knew there wasn't any point…"

Just like Dad's illness…he hadn't seen what was right in front of his eyes.

"Literally? In the style of John the Baptist—or is this another one of your colorful metaphors?"

"I always knew he would disappoint me. He's weak. It must be the Macmillan strain in him. He was supposed to bring you into the fold. Should've been an easy job, and instead he gets himself caught."

Sirius stared at her in silence for a long time. She was waiting—either for him to break or to accept the wisdom of her stirring speeches.

Instead he started to laugh.

"The thing about Reg," he said. "Is that everyone always underestimates him."

"What are you talking about?"

"You, apparently. You've been thinking all along that I caught him, haven't you?" Sirius grinned. "And that—what? Dumbledore used him as leverage against my parents, to convince them to go along with this plan? If you think that you understand them even less than I do."

Oh, how he relished having her on the back-foot, that look of affronted, angry shock.

"He came to me that night. Regulus knew exactly what he was doing. He knew the risks—and he's not hiding out because he's afraid of you lot. He was expecting to die doing what he did, ensuring your boss loses this war. The only thing that saved his life was that bloody Kreacher wouldn't let it go."

"You're lying."

"I'm not. I had nothing to do with his decision, and he's not taking his cues from me. My parents took advantage of Dumbledore's protection because they had no choice, and decided they might as well use their leverage over him to manipulate me back into their clutches, as a bonus. All they care about is their own interests, like the good Blacks they are. Which is not something either of us know much about, is it?"

Her whole body trembled with rage.

"It's no use. Nobody knows I'm here, Bella. Nobody is going to rescue me—least of all Regulus, because all he cares about is killing Voldemort, and as I don't know anything, I'm not worth the risk of saving. So feel free to do what you like with me—you callous, mad, bitch."

There was a knock on the door.

"You're lying," she hissed. "It's a lie."

"It's not! That's the best part of all this."

The knocking persisted, louder. Sirius let out a barking laugh—he felt a bit mad himself.

Her patience had worn out. She looked ready to kill him at last.

Sirius was prepared for this—prepared to die. If he were being honest with himself, if he truly admitted it—he had never expected to make it out of this war alive. True, in his imagination he'd gone out in a blaze of glory, Prongs at his side…but this wasn't so different. He could imagine a world absent himself far more easily than he could picture one without James in it.

Mum and Dad still have Reg.

They were Slytherins. His brother was far more the quintessential Slytherin than even they had given him credit for. They would do what they had to do to survive, disappear…that was their nature.

And Colette was safe. Back on her farm, with her horses and her dreams still intact—at least, it was what he hoped.

Sirius had found something worth living for too late.

I'm sorry about that, Dad.

"You're right about this stuff." He lifted the empty flask up and toasted her, with a mocking grin. "It's freeing. I really feel like I got a lot off my chest today."

Pounding on the door. Bella sharply turned her head.

"Enter!" she shouted.

Rosier burst through the door, a look of suppressed triumph on his too-handsome face.

"What do you want?"

"You'll never guess who just turned up."

"Is that why you interrupted me?" Bellatrix spun around. "For guessing games?"

Rosier, long used to Bellatrix's fits of temper, ignored the way his cousin's fingers twitched as they gripped the long stem of her blackthorn wand.

"No. Something far better." He turned to Sirius and sneered. "You're in for it now, Black. I knew he was lying."

"About what?"

"About coming alone."

---

No one answered the door when Lily knocked—once, twice, five times.

"They're probably hung over in the bedroom, sleeping off a Christmas hangover," she told Colette, in a faux-chipper voice.

The French girl did not reply—her heart-shaped face had grown pale, and on the journey to London she had lost her desire (and possibly her ability) to speak. Lily put her hand on the doorknob and turned it—it opened.

"I'm sure it's just Sirius being careless…"

They walked into the empty sitting room. The vestiges of Christmas lay strewn about the sofa and coffee table in neat piles—tidied chaos.

"...Hello?" Lily walked back through the door that led to the kitchen. "Sirius? Regulus? It's Lily!"

Instead of following, Colette sank into the sofa, her knees clenched together in awful resignation. A minute later Lily returned.

"That flat's empty." Her expression was now grim, and she looked at Colette with newfound respect and a little suspicion. "You were right."

"In matters such as this I often am," Colette said, in a miserable voice. "It's just as I feared—they know, and they've done something…horrible to him."

"Don't jump to conclusions." Lily looked around the living room with fresh eyes. "There are enchantments on this flat that Albus Dumbledore himself set. If someone had broken them, an Order member would have been alerted—"

Lily's eyes fell onto the sofa—and the silvery object she had just realized was sitting right next to Colette.

"My husband was here," she said, voice hollow. "That's his invisibility cloak. Sirius returned it at the party."

Colette leaped to her feet.

"It's even worse. They've both been taken."

"No," Lily cut her off, voice firm. "There's no sign of a struggle. I know James—if Death Eaters had come, he would not have gone without a fight. They weren't attacked. My guess is he and Regulus left together—willingly. What I don't understand is what for."

Colette picked up the invisibility cloak and ran her fingers over the silvery fabric, remembering the feeling of it over her body as she and Sirius Black had sneaked about the grounds of Hogwarts in what now felt like another life.

"Regulus has been in this flat for two weeks," Lily continued. "And to the best of my knowledge he hasn't left it once. Why would he and James have gone somewhere—?"

Lily suddenly froze, a look of profound understanding crossed her face—which very quickly turned to horror.

"Oh, God."

She buried her head in her hands.

"What is it?"

"There's only one person who could make my husband and Regulus Black do anything together—" She lifted her hands up in the air. "And we're standing in his flat."

Colette turned deathly pale again.

"No, that's not possible. He has left England."

"Maybe you think that. But those two believe otherwise. They have an idea of where Sirius is and have gone after him, mark my words. Of course, why they wouldn't leave a note or call for Order back-up is beyond me."

"Perhaps there was…no time to do so."

"I'm supposed to be his bloody wife."

"He may not have wanted to worry you."

"Well, he's done a piss-poor job of that, hasn't he?"

Colette walked over to the dining room table. On it she spotted a heavy parchment envelope with an embroidered edge. The envelope had been slit open, roughly, and its contents removed. She picked it up.

"I…I think I know where they are," Colette said, eyes widening in recognition. She dropped it on the table. "And I know why they were in such a hurry. Mrs. Potter—come here—and bring the cape d'invisibilité."

"What—"

"—Quickly!"

Lily picked up the cloak and hurried to her side. Colette stuck out her arm and pulled off the bracelet that dangled from her wrist. She waved her wand in the same way she'd seen Burke do the night before, and a second pendent grew next to the greyhound—a small golden flower, encased in glass. The pendant expanded, blew up like a balloon, until the flower inside it was the size of a human heart.

"What in heaven's name is—"

Colette broke the glass, grabbed Lily by the wrist, and touched their hands to the silver flower at the same instant.

Both women vanished.

---

Whoops! Guess Sirius ended up spilling secrets anyway. Though in this case they may have been largely besides the point.