" You, me, and Harry."

Sirius felt that he was experiencing a deja vu. He felt suffocated in an abyss of complications when it came to this. He didn't want to hurt her, but he also could not continue if–if she wanted this.

"Lena," he sighed, placing his hands on her two shoulders. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" Marlene's voice was tight and there was a faint warning in it.

"This..." Sirius gestured vaguely between them, his voice carried a weary frustration. "All of this. You know how my life is right now. The war, Harry...there's just no space for..."

Marlene abruptly stepped away from him.

"Right," Marlene bit out, her voice sharp with hurt and anger. "That's exactly what you said seventeen years ago, wasn't it? Good to see you have not changed a bit."

"This is different," Sirius started, but she cut him off.

"Oh, I doubt that very much," she scoffed, her hooded eyes like slits. "Only then you were primarily worried about upsetting my brother. What would Angus McKinnon think if a Black was involved with his little sister, eh? Well, we never found out after all–" her face was a mask of bitterness.

"For Merlin's sake, Marlene, not this again!" Sirius said irritated,

Sirius knew she was right. He had feared, years ago, that their on-and-off, never quite actualised relationship would upset Angus and Elspeth McKinnon, fellow Order members and high-ranked Aurors.

But it was not the only issue.

Sirius was restless, gasping for freedom away from his family, and the Order was his way of finding that, his way of proving to himself and others that he was different from his cold, dark, blood-obsessed family. So he wanted to prioritise what he wanted although there was a spark between him and Marlene–and perhaps, without realising it back then, or more likely without letting himself realise it, he had loved her in his own way.

He definitely knew she did.

But that was then. How could he possibly explain to her how everything in his life had gone so wrong, how now was immensely worse than a twenty-two year old Sirius with a complicated family history.

"It was the same excuse back then," she said coldly.

"Must you do that?" Sirius snapped.

It's true that back then, he was not a proper boyfriend for Marlene, but she knew his limitations, or at least he thought she would understand.

Now it seemed that he stood at the precipice of an old wound of hers–and Sirius Black was still unable to tend his own wounds.

"All excuses because you simply could not handle a real relationship," she spat bitterly.

He looked at her menacingly and paced around the table, breathing heavily through his nose.

"Being with you, Sirius, that's all I wanted," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "Not marriage, not some...echo of the life you escaped. I wouldn't do that to you." The moment she mentioned his family, a shadow flickered across Sirius's face, a muscle in his jaw twitching almost imperceptibly.

But Sirius thought that, back then, being with her would inevitably lead to this, or the expectation. Open courtship, the weight of unspoken expectations, the pressure to build a family in the midst of war, children Harry's age—

He didn't want this, although if he were honest with himself, the promise of a family of his own was not completely unwanted, but something he took for granted, he deferred this for a future that never came.

There was an awful silence and Sirius preferred to be hexed than having to discuss the past with Lena.

Fine!" Sirius exploded, his voice rising sharply. "I couldn't handle it! I wasn't ready, alright? Are you satisfied now, Lena? Is that what you were looking for, some kind of confession?"

She did not reply but looked at him directly like an animal ready to attack.

"And then you just…disappeared," Marlene continued, ignoring his outburst. "Vanished. Left without a word. Of course now, we all know it was the secret keeper business–"

Sirius felt a surge of anger. Would she really bring his dead friend into this?

"I did what I had to do!" Sirius' voice rose again.

"Because James asked you to?" Marlene's voice dripped with bitter sarcasm.

"He needed me! He was my best mate!" Sirius roared, slamming his fist on a nearby table. A vase of wilting flowers toppled over, scattering petals and water across the floor.

"And did James need you to end up in Azkaban for twelve years, Sirius?" Marlene shot back, her voice trembling with barely suppressed rage.

Sirius' face contorted with fury. "It wasn't like that," he said coldly.

"Oh, but it was!" Marlene shouted, her voice cracking with unshed tears. "And you know what the worst part is? If you had just…if you had just trusted me, let me in on the truth about the secret keeper…about the switch…maybe none of this would have happened!"

"I could not have said anything, James asked me to keep the secret for him– for them," Sirius hissed, his chest protruding aggressively as if to show her his own battle wounds.

"And what did that get you?"

"I didn't care–I wanted to help James and Lily, I promised them I would. I just–I just," he trailed off, his hands on his face. "Everything went wrong," he said.

"If you had told me, if you had told me you had been asked and you used Peter, I would have–" she started to say.

"I DIDN'T WANT TO TELL YOU" Sirius roared. "I DIDN'T WANT ANY OF YOU TO KNOW!" He said breathlessly, his chest heaving, spit flying all over and his newly trimmed hair sticking on his face.

Sirius slammed his hand down on the table again, this time hard enough to make the wood crack and an angry tear left his eyelids.

"James put the lives of his wife and child on me," he said, punching his own chest. "And I…I was no better than bloody Peter, handing them over to Voldemort!"

Marlene stared at him for a long moment.

"You can't blame yourself for what Peter did–" she started saying but he sneered at her.

"Look," he said. "This...whatever this is..." he gestured between them, "...it's not going to work. You're looking for something I can't give you."

"Sirius, that's not—"

He cut her off, not with anger, but with an indifference that stung more than any outburst. "Don't kid yourself, Lena," he said, his voice flat. "You want someone who can play the part, the dutiful boyfriend. And that," he laughed, a short, humourless sound, "that I can't do. Not now. Not for you. Not for anyone."

"No, I suppose, not," Lena said with a voice that conveyed bitter understanding. "I deal in spells of protection, in fighting curses. I'm an Auror, after all. But some wounds run deep and I guess…you need a healer," she added poignantly.

Sirius' brow furrowed but he didn't look at her. Then, without another word, she turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

...

Harry could not sleep. His thoughts were racing as he laid on his warm bed, everyone around him fast asleep. He needed to tell someone, to share the burden of this knowledge, but a strange instinct held him back. Should he speak to his friends? He did not feel keen to, as they were not on speaking terms. He couldn't shake the feeling that revealing Malfoy's secret now, with so much uncertainty swirling around them, would only serve to heighten their already frayed nerves.

Sirius. He had to tell Sirius. But not yet. Not while he was still at Hogwarts, surrounded by prying eyes and potential dangers. He'd be back at Grimmauld Place in a few days. He could tell Sirius then, he thought.

He pulled out the small, cracked mirror from his pocket, the one Sirius had given him and stared at his reflection for a moment, his face pale and drawn in the dim light. He almost whispered the words, the weight of them heavy on his tongue, but then he hesitated. Not now. He couldn't risk it. If Snape was helping Malfoy, he could not reveal this when both of them were in the castle.

He tucked the mirror back into his pocket, a tangible reminder of the secret he carried, and made his way downstairs to the Gryffindor common room, hoping to find some semblance of peace.

The common room was mostly deserted except for someone who sat in front of the fireplace.

Harry was surprised to see that it was Ginny, curled up in an armchair by the fire, her back to him. He could tell by the rigid set of her shoulders and the way she clutched a tattered book in her lap that something was wrong.

He cleared his throat softly, and Ginny jumped, whirling around in her chair. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and her cheeks stained with tears.

"Oh, it's just you," she said, her voice deliberately casual.

"Everything alright?" Harry asked, taking a seat on the arm of the sofa opposite her. He still felt awkward about the very clumsy incident they shared the other day, but his anxiety overrode his lingering embarrassment.

Ginny let out a humourless laugh. "Just peachy. Dean and I had a bit of a… disagreement."

Harry wasn't sure what to say. He knew this was not the time to be glad that things between her and Dean were not great, so he averted his gaze.

"He's just being an idiot," Ginny said, as if reading his mind. "He doesn't understand..." Her voice trailed off, and she stared into the fire, her expression unreadable.

"Understand what?" Harry asked softly.

Ginny shook her head, her fiery hair swirling around her face. "It doesn't matter. It's stupid." She looked up at him then. "What about you? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Harry hesitated, torn between his need for secrecy and his desire to confide in someone, anyone. He looked at Ginny, at her familiar features, the determined set of her jaw, the fierce loyalty that shone in her eyes. He knew, somehow, that he could trust her.

He told Ginny about the whispered argument, the way Snape had called Malfoy a "child playing with fire," the chilling implication that Malfoy was answerable to someone far more powerful, someone he referred to as "master."

Ginny listened intently, her brow furrowed in concentration, her green eyes mirroring the worry that gnawed at Harry's insides. When he finished, she didn't dismiss his concerns or offer empty reassurances. She simply nodded, her expression grave.

"You need to tell Sirius," she said, her voice firm, leaving no room for argument.

"I know," Harry said, running a hand through his already messy hair. "I will. At Christmas. When I get back to Grimmauld Place."

Ginny shook her head, her red hair swaying with the movement. "No, Harry. This can't wait until Christmas. Every day counts. You have to tell him now."

Harry hesitated, torn between his desire to confide in Sirius and the nagging fear that using the mirror was too risky, that it would spur Sirius to do something stupid. "But what if Snape—"

"Snape's not here," Ginny interrupted, her voice taking on a steely edge. "And neither is anyone else. It's late, everyone's asleep. Go get the mirror, Harry. Do it now."

He crept back up to the dormitory, careful not to wake Ron, who was snoring softly with his face half-buried in his pillow, or Neville, who was sprawled out on his bed, drooling slightly onto a crumpled Herbology essay. He retrieved the mirror from his trunk.

Back in the common room, Ginny was waiting.

He took a deep breath and pulled out the mirror. "Alright" he whispered, his voice tight with apprehension.

Ginny nodded. "Let's do this."

...

Sirius's hands fisted in Lena's hair, his kisses bruising as he pulled her closer, his tongue tracing a path along her jaw. Lena arched into him, a gasp escaping her lips.

They had reconciled over the last few days. In reality, they didn't need to. They silently found their way back into each other after the meetings were over and they did not address the argument.

"Should we be doing this?" she murmured against his lips, her voice barely audible above the pounding of her own heart.

Sirius pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his pale grey eyes were now dark with a flicker of disappointment. "Yes," he said gruffly, almost cockily. "Unless you don't want to," he added, his hands still on her back.

Lena laughed, a breathless sound, and swung her leg over his hips. She met his eyes for a second before she sank down.

Sirius groaned, his head hitting the mattress. He gripped her hips, his fingers digging in as she set the pace.

He pulled her down, kissing her hard, his hands cupping her breasts, the feel of her and the sensations were driving him wild. With a growl, he flipped them, burying himself inside her again.

And then he heard it. A creak, a rustle.

Sirius froze. The mirror was ringing. His rhythm stuttered and he collapsed on top of her, losing his balance.

Lena, confused, shifted, trying to get him moving again. "What's wrong?"

"It's Harry," Sirius choked out. The two-way mirror was used for emergencies. That meant Harry was on the other end, trying to get his attention. At this hour? Something was wrong.

Lena, still catching her breath, frowned, starting to sit up. "What? What's—"

"Shh, quiet!" Sirius cut her off, his tone brooking no argument. He swung his legs off the bed, his movements jerky as he grabbed for his discarded trousers and shirt.

He dropped onto the armchair, snatching up the mirror. "Harry. Everything alright?"

The mirror call ended, leaving a hollow silence in its wake. Sirius remained frozen in the armchair, his gaze unfocused, the weight of Harry's words. He barely registered Lena's movements as she climbed out of bed.

"Snape, really?" Lena's voice, sharp with disbelief. "Once a Death Eater, always a Death Eater." She shook her head, her hair appearing more red in the dim light. "You'd think Dumbledore would know better than to trust a greasy git like that around kids. After everything–"

Sirius shot up from the armchair, taking Marlene by surprise.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

He ignored her question.

"Sirius, what's going on? You're scaring me."

"I'm going to get Harry," he stated, his voice firm, resolute. "Bring him here. School's ending this week anyway, no point in him staying there another day, not with…" He trailed off.

"Isn't this a bit…rash?" Lena asked. "I mean, barging into Hogwarts? Dumbledore won't be happy. Or the Order."

"I don't care about Dumbledore," he said, his voice low, dangerous. He paused, his expression softening slightly. "Come with me."

It wasn't a question, more of a command, but there was an underlying vulnerability in his tone that Lena couldn't ignore. She hesitated for a moment, then nodded, a slow smile spreading across her lips.