Sirius roused to the sight of Alastor Moody shaking him awake. The room was empty except for them and Lucius, who was avidly staring out the window and utterly ignoring his guests. To Sirius' surprise, Moody hugged him wordlessly. Also a little surprising, Sirius returned the hug, tears pricking he eyes.

"I've got a privacy charm up," Moody said. "What happened this morning, lad? My portrait wasn't with you."

"The Dark Lord found out Crouch is alive and deduced there's a spy. It's my fault. I cast that blasting curse and was sure I watched four people die in there..."

"Aye, they died. It's not... You... you made the best choices you could, Sirius. Is he onto you? Besides knowing generally there's a spy?"

Sirius shook his head. "No. I already survived questioning. Barely. He thinks it's more likely one of the Imperiused ones. But he's not sure, and he's going to be cautious in case more people get Imperiused. I'm basically one of his top three Death Eaters now though, after Bella and Dolohov."

Moody nodded and released him, though he kept his hands on Sirius' shoulders. "We'll be even more careful with the information you send us, then. I gather this all happened at headquarters, not your uncle's house?"

"Yes." He quickly explained the ruse. "Bella didn't kill anyone else, did she?"

"No, the only body we found was your uncle's. The place was quite wrecked, though. She did an impressive job faking the scene. Sirius... there is something I need to tell you."

Sirius' eyes widened, and his heartrate quickened in fear. "What?" he whispered.

Moody took a deep breath. "Fleamont Potter was one of the Order members at Foulness last night. A curse hit him... and he did not make it. I'm sorry."

Sirius' heart shuddered. He felt his blood slow and drain from his face, and an overwhelming sensation of dizziness take him. He fumbled a hand for Moody's robe and curled his shaking fingers into it. "Fleamont's... dead?"

Moody nodded sadly.

Sirius moaned, a primal sound of wordless grief, and raised a hand to his mouth, biting his knuckle. He let go of Moody and folded forwards, unable to support himself in the chair. Moody caught him and held him again as Sirius wept. Fleamont... the only man Sirius had ever known who had treated him as a loving father should, who had taken him in for two short years. Sirius had not even said goodbye before abandoning the house again at Christmas.

"What about Euphemia? James? Remus and Peter?"

"They're fine. They're all fine."

"Oh, Merlin..." He cried into Moody's shoulder, and Moody patted his back silently. They stayed there for what felt like a long time before Moody spoke again, softly, without letting him go. "Do you want out? If you want me to, I will take you to the Potters' or to Hogwarts right now. We will hide you. You can stop."

Sirius laughed bitterly. "I can't stop. If I stop now, then I've failed him."

"You haven't failed him. You've been extraordinarily brave, Sirius."

"I've done extraordinarily terrible things that will be utterly meaningless if we lose the war." He shook himself and pushed away, back into his chair. "Speaking of which, you need to get Crouch out of here. The Dark Lord told me I should assassinate him while I'm here today, if I get the chance. I don't think he was actually expecting me to single-handedly pull that off, but you get the idea."

Moody grinned crookedly. "I already took him to Hogwarts, hours ago. He can finish recuperating in the hospital wing there and spend time with his poor son before coming back to live at work tomorrow or the next day."

"Good. The Dark Lord doesn't know, at least he didn't when I was last there. And he killed his informant who worked here, so it might be ages before he figures it out."

Moody winced and squeezed Sirius' shoulder. "Be careful, Sirius. I'll falsify the auror report on your arm, make it seem like a mix of scarring from the Fiendfyre and other combat curse damage."

"What about the rune?" Sirius asked. "I'm not sure if Jorkins detected it through the glamour or not."

He looked down at Sirius' palm. Interestingly, he seemed able to see right through the glamour with his magical eye. "I'll check. If he did... It's Etruscan, right?" Sirius nodded. "I'll compare it to other runic alphabets and falsify that part too, see what possible runic curses would be plausible explanations. It would be suspicious if I 'missed' it and that somehow got back to him anyway."

Sirius grimaced. "Er... you should put in your report that I said Lucretia Malfoy was at the house as well, visiting Narcissa, and that I don't know if she got out." Moody raised an eyebrow. Sirius shrugged uncomfortably. "She tried to hurt Narcissa after she found out the baby was a girl after all. I'm not sure if the Dark Lord decided to kill her or not, but if he did, he'll expect me to have already planted the idea of what might have happened to her."

"I understand. Anyone else I need to say was visiting?" Sirius thought about it, then shook his head. Moody nodded and stood up. "Then good luck, Sirius. I'll see you on the other side." He canceled his privacy spells. Sirius nodded again and watched him leave the room. He pulled the ill-fitting hospital robe tighter about his shoulders, wiped his eyes, and sniffed loudly. Merlin, he wished he could accept the offer to just go back to the Potters or to Hogwarts and leave all this pain and killing to someone else.

Lucius' voice startled him. "Sirius, you're crying."

He looked up to see Lucius was staring at him now, rather than the window. He looked almost sane. "I'm sorry, Lucius... Uncle Cygnus just died."

Lucius nodded, got up, and pulled a chair close to Sirius.' He picked up Sirius' hand and pulled him into a surprisingly gentle side-embrace. "Whatever you do, don't let Bella try necromancy to bring him back, no matter how much she wants to. It never works on people, only on strawberries and apricots... Do you want to hide under my bed?"

Sirius couldn't help but smile at the mad attempt at comfort. He didn't pull away, even though the arm rest of his chair was digging into his side. He needed human touch right now, even if it was Lucius Malfoy. "No, that's alright. This is fine. Thanks though."

"It's dark under there, if you change your mind later."

Sirius snuggled closer and let Lucius pick curiously at his robes. The door opened yet again just a few minutes later. A nurse bustled in with a broad smile and a bundle of pastel-colored blankets. A familiar house elf trotted along next to her, holding a towering pile of every piece of baby-related paraphernalia imaginable. "Hello! Mr. Malfoy? Oh, Mr. Black, I heard you were here as well..."

"Master Sirius, sir, Dobby is very happy to see you again, sir!" Dobby bowed deeply to him, somehow keeping his load steady at the same time.

"Hello, Dobby."

"Mr. Malfoy, are you ready to meet your daughter?" the nurse called. Lucius ignored her, too entranced by the chain of Sirius' watch. He suddenly picked up the dangling end he had been swatting, yanked it up and tried to bite it. "Oh, dear. Mr. Black, would you be able to help him?"

Sirius nodded, feeling rather dazed. He'd rather forgotten why he'd come to St. Mungo's in the first place with the shock of Moody's visit and terrible news. He rescued his property and gently pushed Lucius back into his own chair. Dobby set down his burden and merrily arranged bassinet, blanket, bottles, diapers, and so on around the room. Sirius had a feeling the elf had already done the same in whatever room Narcissa was sleeping, not to mention the expansive nursery at Uncle Cygnus' house. Dobby currently had more "nesting" energy than any witch Sirius had ever seen. Between Dobby and the nurse, they tucked baby Lyra Malfoy in her pleased but bewildered father's arms. Sirius had to hold Lucius' hands in place to keep him from dropping the baby. It definitely would not be safe for the man to hold his daughter unsupervised. "How's Narcissa?" he asked the nurse.

"She's sleeping in a recovery room," the nurse said kindly. "But the healer expects she'll wake up tomorrow, though she'll be sore and tired. We'll take little Lyra back up to her in a bit."

"Thank Merlin. And Lyra's okay? Even though she's early?"

"She's fine as frog's hair, just needing a little extra oxygen in her air."

"Four pounds, two ounces!" Dobby announced proudly. "Dobby is doing all the things Lyra is needing to grow quickly..."

"Narcissa?" Lucius broke in excitedly. "Is she here?"

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, your wife's just upstairs."

"I must see her!" He shifted his feet to get up. Dobby expertly held him down.

"Here, let me hold Lyra, Lucius," Sirius said, taking the baby quickly. Lucius let go of her willingly, far more interested in Narcissa than the newborn. He wasn't allowed out of the ward, of course, but that hardly mattered to his single-minded intent. While the nurse and house elf patiently worked to redirect poor, addled Lucius, Sirius looked down at the tiny infant in his arms.

Lyra was pink and warm and had a bubble-head charm that was presumably regulating the oxygen in her air. Other than the charm, she was healthy-looking to his inexpert eye, even if she was tiny with prematurity. She was sleeping soundly. At least one good thing had happened today.

Sirius swung by Narcissa's room only briefly, where she remained unconscious, and he finally left the hospital near midnight. He accepted an abundant supply of calming draught and muscle relaxers, mostly so he could share it around with whoever needed it at Headquarters. He had zero intention of getting hooked on the stuff again himself. It seemed the Dark Lord had finally decided to take a break; the building was quiet and nearly empty when Sirius returned. The edge of one outer room was lined with dead bodies no family members had yet had the energy to claim. Lucretia was amongst them. He recognized her bloodstained robes. He passed through to the Infirmary, where Dolohov of all people was presiding over the half-dozen patients, including Lord Nott. The Russian wizard winced with every movement.

"I never figured you for much of a healer, Antonin," Sirius said by way of greeting.

He grunted. "I'm not, but I have no vun in this country to qvestion my absence elsevare. Someone must stay. Might as vell be me."

Sirius nodded and set down his potions supply. "Courtesy of St. Mungo's. Nott at least will be needing it."

"Spasibo Koschei!" He ripped into the package and pulled out the first phial of calming draught. He poured a full third of it into a shot glass and downed it with a shudder. He then lurched over to Nott's cot with the rest and tipped it down his throat, muttering spells under his breath. "Fool vas brewing his own stock, it boiled over unattended zis morning, and Dolph already ruined three more vith uneven chopping. I barely kept zat one from exploding and contaminating everysing..."

"That's hardly Nott's fault," Sirius said reasonably, eyeing the cauldron Dolohov had indicated with a jerk of his thumb. It looked suspiciously like another batch of the nasty potion Nott had been brewing while Sirius was stuck here in the winter, judging by the color and the gnome femur sticking out of it. He wondered if the "perfect despair" was still in the experimental stage. He silently wished terrible dreams on Nott and the other Death Eaters sleeping in here, though his heart wasn't in it. "Anything else I can help you with? Not potions brewing. I'm not that good at the best of times, and my hands are shaking just as bad as yours."

"Nyet. I vill manage. How is Narcissa and baby?"

"They're both fine, resting. Narcissa's out of commission for a few days, though."

Dolohov nodded. "I vill let Dark Lord know ven he returns. Go home, Sirius. Sleep so you can do his verk in morning."

"You, too. Don't let anyone do anything with Lucretia's body until I've talked to him about it, by the way."

"Da. Good night."

Sleep in a bed was not to be had, though. When Sirius reached the Averys' house, he found Winston sobbing in the kitchen, alone except for the distraught house elf. Richard's father practically threw himself at Sirius, who caught him awkwardly and staggered backwards against the wall.

"Evan's dead!" Winston cried.

"Evan... Rosier?" Sirius stammered, making the connection.

"He was such a good boy..."

"Yeah... Mr. Avery, where's Richard?" Sirius hadn't seen his body at headquarters, but that didn't stop him from worrying.

Winston sniffed. "Back out. I don't know where those letters make him go. Him and my Elaine. He came home for just a little bit and told me about Evan before leaving again." Oh, yes. Richard and Elaine would both be with the obliviators for days...

"Come on, let's sit down." He eventually maneuvered the older man into the parlor and sat next to him on the sofa. Winston leaned shamelessly on Sirius and cried. Merlin, this was awkward, almost as bad as spending time with Rodolphus after he'd murdered Rabastan. He couldn't just leave Winston to his confused grief, though. It would be too cruel. So he just sat there, for hours, both of them mourning different people, until Winston at least drifted off. Sirius found he couldn't sleep with the warring sensations of grief and guilt flooding his mind, no matter how exhausted he felt.

Richard returned as dawn broke. He stared down at them with large, bloodshot eyes.

"Hey," Sirius said quietly.

"Thanks for watching him," Richard said, gesturing to his sleeping father.

"Least I could do. Are you alright?"

"I'm okay. They're sending the obliviation volunteers to rest in shifts and calling more people in since the Inferi are all gone. I go back in six hours. Are you alright?"

"Well enough."

"Audrey said the Inner Circle had it worse than the rest of us. Said Sullivan could barely stand when he came to find her."

"I'll be fine."

"I heard about your uncle. I'm sorry." He chewed his lip, expression vacant. "Evan's dead. Felix is dead."

"I know. I'm sorry." He stared up at Richard's slumped, defeated posture. His eyes watered again. "I'm so sorry."

"It's not your fault."

"Yes it is," he said weakly.

"That's silly."

Sirius shook his head. "Evan... both of them were Imperiused. Evan turned against us during the mission, and I... it's my fault. I'm so sorry." He really was, even though he couldn't tell Richard exactly what he had done. He'd never felt this bad about killing Death Eaters before.

Richard finally blinked and appeared to wake up in a way. "Oh, Sirius, that's awful." He knelt down and hugged Sirius. Sirius tried to push him away. He of all people did not deserve Richard's sympathy right now. He shouldn't be intruding on the Averys' grief at all if he had any conscience. But Richard was not to be denied, and then Winston woke up, recognized his son with a sleepy smile, and wrapped his arms around them both. There was no escape. Eventually, all three of them fell asleep again in their messy pile.

Severus Snape liked his life, for the first time since he was eleven years old on the train to Hogwarts. He had a good job that he found adequately fulfilling, an intelligent and thoughtful boss, a best friend he wasn't fighting with, a comfortable apartment, clothes that fit him... if only the war would end, he would be tempted to say life did not get much better than this. The war had a habit of ruining everything, though.

Everyone he knew was constantly thinking and stressing about the war. Except the demented old witch who lived in the apartment below his and Lily's. Mrs. Culpepper had no clue. It was a nice change of pace to visit her. She had started calling him her grandson since he popped in to take a break, check on her, and keep her home in order for her so frequently. Her actual grandson (who himself appeared to be in his sixties) had vanished the day after he went through the building knocking on doors looking for someone willing to watch the old lady for "a few days" in exchange for a handful of sickles. Severus didn't grudge the old woman the groceries he now bought for her out of his own pay. He'd never had a kindly grandmother before. It was sort of nice to have one now, even if the circumstances were morbid.

Only when he was alone in his potions laboratory working on research for his mastery thesis could he truly pretend the war did not exist. That was his favorite time. Unfortunately, he was getting less and less of it. Every few days, the schedule at Sleekeazy would be derailed when they received emergency commissions from St. Mungo's, or, Severus suspected, from the Order of the Phoenix. Every few months, the business would shut down almost entirely as half the brewers were called in to help the Ministry obliviate muggles. Times like those, Severus wished he weren't as good with wanded magic, so he could stay behind with the rest of the skeleton crew, keeping the various potions from ruin. Fleamont had made him part of the other skeleton crew though, the one that looked after all the potions in his home laboratory, the crew consisting of Fleamont himself, his son James, Severus, and Lilly.

When he returned from his shift with the obliviators in London and let himself into the Potter mansion to check on the potions laboratory, it was to find James and Euphemia crying together on the couch. Now, Severus did not like many people. In fact, he could count them on one hand: Lily, Lily's mother, Lily's father, Mrs. Culpepper, and Fleamont Potter. On good days, Euphemia Potter was also tolerable; her habit of talking with pride and joy about James was her biggest fault. Severus was not made of stone, though. He would not ignore the Potters' obvious distress. He did not immediately intrude, once he had ascertained no one was actively dying. He checked on the lab, then went to the kitchen to make dinner. He returned to the living room with a pot of lavender tea while the soup simmered.

"What's happened?" he asked softly.

James could not look up, but Euphemia did. Her lip trembled. She failed to smile at him, though she obviously tried. "Fleamont..." she began, before dissolving into tears again.

Severus' heart skipped a beat. "What about Fleamont?"

"He's dead! Killed by Death Eaters," James answered, his voice muffled in his mother's robes.

"Merlin..." He couldn't say anything to that. He poured the tea and put one cup in Euphemia's hands, then drifted back to the kitchen. He set the table and ladled up the soup. Since neither Potter seemed to register his words when he informed them there was food, he helped each of them get up and go to the table. Euphemia first, then James. He watched the two of them eat mechanically. "I'm sorry. He was a good man."

Euphemia nodded.

"Don't worry about going back to the obliviators. I'm not that tired. I can take whoever's shift is scheduled to start next and explain to the Ministry you need exemptions at least for today and tomorrow. Lily and I will mind the lab here. I'll let the company know what happened and rework the schedule there. We will take care of everything."

"Thank you, Severus," Euphemia managed.

"It is the least I can do, considering everything Fleamont did for me."

Severus had time for a one hour nap before returning to London for James' shift. He spoke to the Ministry foreman and updated Lily, then got to work. Fortunately, they let him go again after only six hours, rather than the usual ten. He spent an hour at Sleekeazy checking the potions as Fleamont usually did and working with the night manager to reorganize the schedule for the next few days. He swung by the apartment and laid out a breakfast for Mrs. Culpepper under a warming charm for when she woke up. Then he returned to the Potters'. James and Euphemia were back on the couch, asleep. He found Lily in Fleamont's lab, working.

"Need help?"

"No, you should rest."

He nodded. He waited for her to get to a stopping point, then came over and hugged her. She squeezed him back tightly. "I can't believe he's gone," she sighed.

"Yes."

"Thank you for being so good to James earlier. Euphemia told me you took care of them both."

"He just lost his father. I don't have to be friends with him to sympathize."

"I know. It just means a lot to me."

"Did they tell you what actually happened?"

"No, but I knew he was part of the Order mission last night."

"I wish you weren't in the Order," he whispered.

"I know. But I have to do this. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't step up. The Potters are the same." She shifted her arms around him. "I don't mind that you don't want to join. Not anymore. I realized... I'm happier when you're allowed not to fight when you don't want to. And you are doing important things. Your research, Sev, it's amazing. It's the kind of stuff we used to dream about together."

"Thank you," he said, a little surprised to hear her say so, even though he felt the same way.

"I realized making that possible, it's one of the reasons I keep fighting."

"You don't have to justify yourself to me, Lily." He yawned. "I'm going to nap in a chair somewhere. Wake me up if you need a break."

"There's plenty of guest beds, Sev. Just pick one!" He shrugged at her and ended up curled in the armchair across from the Potters.

The Daily Prophet owl woke him up at six o'clock. He paid it without even thinking about it. If anything, he was surprised the newspaper had managed to print on time given the chaos of the past few days. He was tempted to go back to sleep, when his eyes fell on the front page headlines:

Inferi Eliminated, Obliviations Underway

Three Attacks in Three Days: Prewitt, Crouch, Black, and Malfoy

Hogwarts and Ministry Still Locked Down

Will You-Know-Who End the Sacred Twenty-Eight?

He snatched up the paper and started reading. As usual, the Prophet contained just as much speculation as actual reporting, but still... Merlin. He startled when the clock chimed the half hour, and he set the paper down. He needed to be back with the obliviators at eight, which meant he needed to be at Sleekeazy by seven. He got up and checked on the potions lab, since Lily was already back in London. He looked over her notes, added a few ingredients to several cauldrons and lowered the temperature for a few others. They had to time these even more carefully now. Then he rushed back to the kitchen to make breakfast. Once he'd served up three portions of eggs and toast and had a pot of tea brewing, he gently shook the Potters awake.

"Breakfast is ready for you. I'll put a warming charm on it before I leave. Also... you're going to want to read the paper today."

"I don't want to read anything ever again," James mumbled.

Severus ignored his pitiable tone and persisted. "Apparently, Cygnus Black's house was one of the ones attacked yesterday. He's dead, but Sirius Black and Narcissa Malfoy were both seen in St. Mungo's..."

"Sirius is alive!?" James yelped, sitting up suddenly. Severus handed him the paper.

"Is he alright?" Euphemia asked anxiously, looking over James' shoulder.

"Alive, walking, doing magic, and calling for help, according to the article," Severus confirmed, hiding his automatic distaste for the subject of Sirius Black. "The reporter didn't get the full story and did not actually interview him, but I knew you'd both want to know. I have to go. I'll be back this evening."

"Severus, wait," Euphemia said. She got up, crossed the short distance between them, and hugged him. He was surprised. She had never hugged him before. "Thank you."

He softened against her slightly. "I'm so sorry. I'll miss him. He was... the first adult who ever really believed in me and trusted me." He whispered it, not wanting James to hear. But it was true. Although he retained his childlike adoration for Lily's kind parents, he was under no illusions that they had ever understood him or believed he could ever amount to anything in life. And forget about Tobias and Eileen Snape. Fleamont Potter, though... Fleamont had an incredible capacity for compassion and encouragement without ever veering into pity and coddling. He was firm but always respectful, not controlling, never violent.

It felt extremely unfair that James of all people got to have Fleamont as a father.

Euphemia squeezed his shoulders. "He was proud to have known you. Be safe out there."

Author's note: Dobby doesn't mind working for the Malfoys when the balance of power is totally reversed... And everyone just needs hugs right now, no matter who the hug is coming from and how unusual or hypocritical it might seem to accept.

Dolohov, being a Russian, doesn't swear by Merlin. I thought it would be weird if he just shouted "Baba Yaga!" though, so I went hunting for other Russian legendary figures and found Koschei the Deathless. Which was fascinating, because apparently, Koschei the Deathless was immortal because he hid his soul in nested objects - his soul inside of a needle, inside of an egg, inside of a duck, inside of a... you get the drift. I've read other fairy tales with a similar conceit, that the bad guy's soul is stored somewhere else, but it's usually in an animal rather than inanimate object, never quite so explicitly horcrux-like before. Not claiming this is a new connection, only new to me. I had always assumed the One Ring was the horcrux inspiration. I also have never played D&D and discovered following this up the concept of a Lich. Doesn't look like JKR ever said where she got the idea.

Thanks for the reviews. I'll try to have the next update out on Saturday again, but work is going to be busier, so might end up skipping a week.