A/N: Hello people and welcome to a short, scene-based Bellatrix-POV, future Haphne work. I hope you enjoy; I have more written that I'll post when I can, three won't take long!

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Bellatrix narrowed her eyes as she peered at a building she'd not thought about for so very long; Grimmauld Place. It held so many a memory that resided within the confines of her mind, addled as it was by Azkaban, and by all the magic done to it. Since her release — in more ways than one — she'd thought of them.

All of them.

But it'd do her no good.

Her family was all but eradicated, and of those that remained… suffice it to say none would be all that willing to speak with her.

Not Cissy, and that Malfoy husband of hers.

Not Andi. That bridge had been burnt even before her mind was completely enslaved.

Not Sirius. He was in Azkaban.

Bellatrix looked down at the babe in her arms, and raised her head. She'd done so much evil, even if it wasn't technically her, but finally, she could do some good; she would do some good.

Harry Potter, the last of his line, would be raised by her, and given all the teachings he'd need to thrive. Any who took issue with him, would see themselves dealt with. Any who wish — who dared — to mess with his mind, would be dealt with.

He'd be unbeatable, and he'd not be alone as she was, left to Muggles that'd despise him.

Bella would see any who stepped between her and the boy buried before she relented on that.

"Come, Harry," She said, speaking his name aloud for the first time… testing it. "We're home."

And by Morgana, did she mean it; this would be their home, their refuge, their fresh start.

Bellatrix blinked as she took in the abandoned estate. It'd been a very long time since she'd taken in the entry hall.

She pushed down the feelings of sadness, and pushed further in. Not more than a few seconds later, and with a wrinkled nose, she waved her wand in her off-hand whilst maintaining the grip she had of the little Potter in her other, clutched to her chest as he was. That motion saw the dust and other muck that'd gathered since the place's last use taken care of.

It also saw the arrival of somebody.

That somebody nearly had their head taken as a result of that sudden appearance as well. The only reason she'd stopped short of following through with the spell she'd had at the tip of her wand, was recognition.

"Kreacher?" her wand remained pointed at the house elf before her.

'Kreacher' lowered his hand as soon as his name was spoken, and looked at her with wide, awe-filled eyes. "Mistress?"

Bellatrix grinned. So it was him… and he remembered the proper term. "Good. You remember me." she swept past him. "Have the place cleaned, and begin dinner. Blacks will reside here once more."

Kreacher looked more pleased than she'd ever seen him before, even when he'd been with her mother. "Kreacher lives to serve the House of Black."

With such parting words, he was off.

Bellatrix looked down at the babe in her arms once more, smiled — a rare thing these days — and leaned down so as to kiss his forehead. The boy was innocent, and adorable, and he would be cared for.

As for Sirius, she would… in time, try and aid him. Mayhaps a letter to Dumbledore would see her baby cousin freed. She wondered what the cost would be to herself if she attempted such a thing.

High. It'd definitely be high.

"Come," Bellatrix said aloud, not that Harry could understand any of what she said. "We'll have your crib brought to Aunt Bella's room. You're far too young to sleep in a room alone."

And so she went deeper into Grimmauld place, taking in the sights that were, and still persisted to this day. Strange as it was, sad as it was, she was happy to be here.

Bellatrix peered out the window and to the street down below. The Muggles seemed particularly active and busy, for a change. She wasn't sure why that was, but it made her wrinkle her nose at the thought; she did so desire to have her name cleared so that they could take up residence in another property.

One not secluded.

But she wasn't foolish enough to risk it sans that clearance. Without the safety of Grimmauld Place, Harry would've been taken from her, and she'd have gone back to Azkaban for crimes she hadn't committed by way of mind-affecting magic being placed over her. She was a slave to the Lestranges then, and by extension, the 'Dark Lord' that'd vanished since the night Harry had been hers.

She wasn't stupid enough to believe he was dead. He had safeguards of which she could remember just as easily as any crime she'd been forced to commit.

"Aunt Bella?" The voice was Harry's.

The boyishness slowly disappearing, giving way to manhood made her feel sad and proud of him. He was kind, but calculating, intelligent, but not snobbish, gifted; very gifted.

"Here," She called back to him as she turned her head away from the window. "Eager?"

He appeared in the doorway to her study in a seconds' time, and it was then he responded. "Very eager. You've told me all about Hogwarts — how couldn't I be excited?"

She smiled. "A fair point, I'd say. Just remember what I've said, please?"

"Don't tell them who I'm with, stay away from the Slytherin's, and don't back down." Harry said the words as if he was reciting them from a book. "I remember. You've told me a dozen times this week."

"Just have to be careful," Bella pushed away from the wall and went right over to him. Despite the words of other witches, she still felt young, and energetic. By Morgana, did she feel horrible for being unable to see him off at the Hogwarts Express… but maybe there was a way.

It'd be reckless.

"Bella?"

She blinked and then took hold of one of his hands. "Kitchen. I've had Kreacher make your favourite."

Harry's face cracked the largest, toothiest smile of the day.