Summer fades to fall and fall turns to winter in a dizzying blur. The investigator's bi-monthly reports seem to take eons to arrive. Lucy spends her time researching and dueling and planning, planning, planning. Finally, one rainy day in November, James Potter and Lily Evans approach Lucy's cluttered table in the library.

Lucy's never liked Potter. She's too loyal to Severus to feel otherwise. Lily, on the other hand, she cares nothing for either way. Except to admire her hair, of course. It's a vibrant shade of deep red that most women spend paychecks to achieve and still never manage to get.

"Can I help you?" Lucy asks.

"We're here to pass a letter along from Andromeda," Potter says.

She glares at him, waiting for him to lay it on the table. He never does. He only stares back with a contemplative expression. Lucy supposes he's handsome enough, but he's no Sirius Black or Tom Riddle. It's more in the way he holds himself, the natural authority he commands, much in the way Severus does. Lily apparently has a type.

"Well?" Lucy snaps. "Where is it?"

Potter's gaze rakes over her body in a considering way. Although it's obviously not sexual, Lucy glances at Lily uneasily. Teenage girls are petty creatures. She doesn't seem upset, fortunately. Only amused.

"I wanted to talk to you about Sirius."

Lucy scoffs and returns to scribbling out notes in her journal. "I don't have the time for this, Potter. Leave the letter and go."

"He's too good for you."

Lucy stills. There is a moment where she cautions herself: he is just a child, they are children and she is an adult. Then, with a heady rush, she realizes it isn't quite true anymore. At seventeen there is still room to grow and mature, but he's old enough to know better. He's old enough to learn. She doesn't have to hold it back any longer.

Lucy drops her pen, closes the journal, and laces her fingers together.

"And how do you figure that, Potter?" She asks calmly.

He furrows his brows. "Er...Pardon?"

"What makes you say that I'm not good enough for Sirius Black?"

"He's a good person."

"And I'm not?"

"Well, he-"

"I've never played an embarrassing prank on anyone. I've never bullied anyone, especially for things beyond their control. I've never endangered someone's life and betrayed a friend's trust for fun. Oh yes, Potter, I know all about last year. I know all about your friend's furry little problem. And yet I haven't said a single thing because I am a good person. I've kept my head down and minded my business. What's the school motto, Potter?"

He rolls his eyes, ignoring his girlfriend's almost desperate tug on his hand. "You can't seriously be comparing yourself to a dragon, Tonks. I've seen you duel in class."

"Not everything is solved with a duel, Potter, and I have never encouraged-"

"Well, well, well."

Gawain Yaxley steps around the bookshelf and into Lucy's alcove. In her opinion, he's one of the Slytherins that would have been sorted in Gryffindor if it were not for his ambition. Brash, brutish, and completely ridiculous. Cannon fodder for the Dark Lord.

"What have we here?" He sneers, tucking a lock of brown hair behind his ear. It makes Lucy want to vomit or laugh or maybe both. He's trying so hard to be another Regulus and isn't nearly good looking or suave enough to pull it of. "Potter trying collect another mudblood?"

Both Evans and Potter flush with anger, but Lucy scoffs loudly before either of them can speak.

"Come on, Yaxley. You know I've got better taste than James Potter."

"I don't know what goes through a mind like yours."

"I know," she says with faux sympathy, "but we're all really proud of you for trying to keep up."

"You little cunt," he hisses.

Potter forgotten, he prowls forward with his fist clenched around his wand and his teeth bared in a pale imitation of a threat. Lucy watches him approach with a thoroughly unimpressed expression. She's heard it all since she stepped in the common room six years ago. At this point, their insults are predictable and boring.

"I'm sick of you," he snarls. "I'm sick of your kind. You think you're so special. You think you're so bright. You're wrong. You're all wrong. You disgust me."

He stops just in front of her chair and braces one hand on the desk and the other behind her shoulder. He leans down close enough to kiss, his sandalwood cologne nearly overpowering her senses. She studies the red bumps on his jaw from his morning shave. So strange to think of Death Eaters doing such mundane things. Does Voldemort shave? Does he brush and floss?

"You'll be how I earn my Mark," he says, spittle landing on her nose. "I'll have you writhing under my wand before I present your body to the Dark Lord. And after you, I'll kill your fat brother, his slut wife, and their mudblood daughter."

Lucy stills. Her heat stutters, then quickens to an alarming speed. It's a terrible, horrible thing, but she's dreamed of those words for three years. There are very few reasons Slytherin House would accept her acting against one of their own. Even then it wouldn't be absolute. After all, an inferior does not deserve what its master holds. This, however, is something they can understand. Violence. Revenge. Family.

Hone it, Regulus had said. Settle it into your bones. Breathe it into your lungs.

"Oh, Yaxley," she whispers, raising one hand to caress his cheek. He jerks away, face suddenly bone white, but she twists the tip of her wand into his knee. She could turn it into sludge with one word. Just one lovely Latin word. But that would be too kind. "You beautiful boy."

Expelliarmus, she thinks, and his wand clatters across the desk.

Lucy stands, pressing her chest against Yaxley's as she does. His green eyes widen as their robes slide against each other.

"I'm sorry," he rasps. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, I swear. I'm sorry."

Lucy swipes her thumb across his smooth skin, peering up at him through her lashes. His throat bobs nervously.

"You've fucked up, Yaxley. You just threatened to kill my three year old niece. You just threatened to kill a Black in front of witnesses. Your uncle Corban can't get you out of this one."

A broken whimper escapes from his lips. He jerks his head to Potter.

"I didn't mean it, Potter," he swears feverishly. "I didn't mean it. It was just a joke."

"Real funny joke, mate."

Yaxley's thin lips press into a flat line. "Regulus won't allow this," he tries. "He won't-"

"Regulus is unstable, my love," Lucy gently reminds him. "He won't turn down a little bloodletting. Speaking of which..."

With one jab if her wand, he freezes in place. His clothes disappear in another swish. He stands frozen in nothing but silk boxer briefs, aristocratic pale skin on full display.

"Er, mate-" Potter begins, but Lucy shushes him as she reaches into her bag. She's nearly up to her shoulder in books and potions and snacks before she feels the smooth glass of an empty vial.

Muffled screams come from Yaxley when she holds it up to the light. Ravenclaw blue, perfect for preserving blood samples.

"Oh, silencio, you coward. How do you ever expect to serve Voldemort if you can't handle a filthy little mudblood like me?" She aims her wand at his wrist and whispers, "Diffindo."

"Tonks!" Potter cries. Strangely enough, Lily Evans holds him back.

A thin line appears across Yaxley's wrist. Blood wells down onto his palm a heartbeat later. The vial is filled disappointingly fast. She'd have liked for him to writhe a bit more. Quick as whip, Lucy slashes his other wrist, then jabs her wand dangerously close to his eyes. He falls to his knees with a silent scream as the paralyzation dissipates, his wrists pressed together frantically.

Lucy bends down to cup his chin.

"I'll make sure your wand gets to Regulus, but you best run along now. Madam Pince will throw a fit if you make a mess in her library."

She presses her lips against his softly.

"Go, darling. I'll catch up with you later."

Yaxley scampers up, his bare feet slapping against the stones. Shrill screams echo through the stacks not a moment later. Lucy allows herself a triumphant smile before she begins packing the books up.

"You're fucking mental," Potter accuses.

Lucy glances over at them. She'd nearly forgotten her audience.

"You said it yourself, Potter. I'm a shit duelist." She conjures another vial and waves her wand so that the blood bottles itself away. "The best hope I have is making them so paranoid they slip up."

She shoulders her bag and holds her hand out.

"I wasn't lying. I really am going to give his wand to Regulus."

Potter narrows his eyes. "I'll take care of that."

"The letter, then."

He jolts in surprise, having forgotten why he came to her in the first place. He passes it over after fumbling around in his robes for a while.

"The littlest snakes will get the wand to him fastest. Eager to please and all that," she advises. "I'll see you in Defense tomorrow, yeah?"

Without another word, she spins around a bookshelf, make sure she's alone, then shifts into a raccoon and scampers away.

Back in her dorm, Lucy unfurls the sealed parchment. Stark white printer paper hides innocently in the folds. She reads the typed letter three times before she can let herself believe it.

Detective Jenkins has found the cave.

No one notices Lucy arrive in Defense the following morning. They're too captivated by a group of Gryffindors clustered against the far wall. James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Lily Evans are crowded around Sirius Black, whispering and hissing and pleading to deaf ears.

With sudden clarity, Lucy realizes that Sirius is not the boy she has thought him to be. Standing in a calm rage and burning grey eyes, she realizes that he is dangerous. He is the man that survived thirteen years in Azkaban. He is the man that dueled Bellatrix Lestrange and laughed. And just like that, Lucy is newly determined to see him become all he can be. She'll be damned if they put him away this time. She'll set the damn veil on fire until it spits him back out.

"Miss Tonks," Professor Diaz greets. "Would you mind closing the door?"

There is a sudden clutter from the Slytherin side of the room. Gawain Yaxley edges further into Severus Snape's shadow as her gaze alights on his spot under the window.

"Of course, Auror Diaz."

Lucy closes the door and crosses the room to stand at her usual spot beside Severus. He arches a brow down at her. She responds with a cheeky smile before she bends around him to beam at Yaxley.

"Hello, Gawain. I'm glad to see you're feeling better."

He stares back, his face warring between rage and fear until Sirius barks out a laugh from across the room. It immediately drops into an expression of bone-deep terror.

Professor Diaz clears his throat in a call for attention.

"I don't know what it is that's happened, but I've told you before to leave the war outside that door. Whatever happened last night, I want you to forget about it. Now, as you can see, we'll continue with the dueling roster-"

Shafiq raises a trembling hand as she says, "Professor, with all due respect, I'm not sure that is appropriate for today."

"I disagree, Miss Shafiq. I'd rather you vent your anger under adult supervision if you act upon it at all."

The Slytherins immediately avert their eyes to the floor or the ceiling, all too aware that Lucy has something suitability dramatic brewing. The professor naively takes it for acceptance.

"Now," he announces. "It looks like I'll have to bump Black up on my list, given his attitude today."

"Professor, I really don't think that's a good idea," Potter cuts in.

Auror Diaz rolls his eyes. "What did I just say, Potter? Better in here than out there. Come on, Black."

Sirius discards his robe, pulls half of his hair back, and loosens his tie before he strides to the wide chalked circle. The professor sighs and looks back down at his list.

"Shafiq, you're up."

Shafiq winces, but she doesn't complain. It must have been why she spoke up. Lucy can't blame her. She certainly wouldn't want to have to face off against Sirius any day, let alone in a mood like that. Nonetheless, Shafiq casts a spell at her hijab and enters the circle with poise.

They bow, and he has her tumbling into her housemates with two slashes of his wand.

He smirks up at the Slytherins in a mocking taunt.

"Next," he demands.

Auror Diaz raises a brow. "Robinson."

Robinson at least manages to get in a protego before he trips headfirst into the stone floor.

"Next," Sirius drawls.

The professor sets his list aside and strides forward to the very edge of the circle, eyes roaming over his class in consideration.

"Robinson and Tonks," he finally says.

Lucy startles. "What?"

"Robinson and Tonks."

"Why?!" She blurts.

"Because I want to see what he's capable of."

Lily Evans shoves her way to the front, her chin high and sleeves already rolled up to her elbows.

"Let me at him. Pair him with me if you really want to see what he can do."

Auror Diaz frowns. His dark eyes dart from Lily to Sirius and back again. After a long moment, he nods slowly.

Very well," he concedes.

Lily grins wickedly, causing several Gryffindors to blanch, and Severus to nearly faint with desire. The professor shakes his head in exasperation.

Lily and Sirius manage to put on a riveting show, a true rarity for classroom duels. Both of their curses skirt the line of legality. Lily isn't as quick or reactive as Sirius, but she's creative. At one point, she overpowers an aquamenti then freezes the puddle under Sirius's feet. He retaliates with a jet of green flames that make the runes glow in warning. Eventually, Sirius's anger gets the best of him. He bombards her with rapid fire curses that barrel straight through the dueling wards. Auror Diaz watches chunks fall from the stone walls with a wide-eyed expression. Lily responds in kind, casting an old dark curse that melts through the round dome and puts a sludgy crater in the windowsill. Sirius is so taken aback that he doesn't see the gentle tripping jinx coming. His wand is in her hand before he hits the floor.

Lily steps over his prone body and takes three long strides until she is staring into Yaxley's eyes. Auror Diaz rushes forward, his wand angled to rise, but comes to a sudden halt when she speaks in a clear, cold voice.

"You ready to try and make me writhe under your wand, Yaxley? No? You sure? What about that baby you said you'd kill, then? You might be able to handle a baby, big, tough wizard that you are."

She takes another step forward. Lucy isn't sure if the end of her auburn ponytail is sparking or if it's a trick of the light.

"I hope she makes you scream, you slimy toerag."

Lily abruptly spins on her heel, fiery ponytail whipping through the air. She tosses Sirius's wand on his panting chest as she stomps out of the class. He raises a two figure salute in thanks. The professor is too busy glowing at Yaxley to reprimand either of them.

"Class dismissed. I think I need to have a word with Mr. Yaxley."

In the chaos, Lucy hurries over to drag Sirius to his feet. She leans and whispers something in that makes him throws back his head in a booming laugh. Everyone is too engaged with the fresh gossip to notice. By dinner, the entire school will know what Gryffindor Tower has always been painfully aware of: Lily Evans is terrifying.

Lucy strolls into the Slytherin common room at exactly ten o clock. She's on a tight schedule. Torture at ten and off to destroy a horcrux at half past eleven. The room, already crowded, goes silent as the grave when she enters.

Regulus Black is reading a book by the massive hearth, completely ignoring the spectacle in the center of the room. There, Gawain Yaxley is curled in a ball on an expensive emerald carpet. A thin layer of sweat coats his skin and the veins in his temples and neck have darkened to a deep violet. The students foolish enough to attempt rescue are nursing blistered hands and scorched arms off to the side.

Regulus looks up at the sudden silence. His full lips quirk into the smallest smile when his gaze meets Lucy's. The sapphire ring she covets so much glints in the green firelight as he snaps the book closed.

"How long has he been stuck there?" She asks as he joins her.

The Slytherins part as they make their way to the center of the room. Violet is nowhere to be seen. It's probably for the best. She's never been one for violence or confrontation. Severus, however, smirks up from his seat in a nearby armchair. He may as well have ordered a bag of popcorn from a house elf.

"A little over two hours," Regulus answers amicably. "He showered after dinner then came out here to complain about you and Lily Evans. A bit annoying, really."

"I wanted to drag it out. Make him wonder what was waiting for him. I'm too busy though."

Yaxley whimpers at their feet.

"How terribly inconvenient."

"Mm. Did anyone figure it out?"

"No, actually, I wanted to congratulate you. Even Severus and I were confounded."

Lucy grins and tips her head back to look at the ceiling. Regulus follows her gaze, letting out a soft noise of enlightenment. A very old, very intricate set of runes and circles have been painstakingly drawn with blood, charcoal, and salt. Yaxley, great bore that he is, is a creature of habit. He sits in the same chair with the same people nearly every night. It was only a matter of time and blood.

"Nobody ever thinks to look up," Lucy points out.

"Marvelous. How'd you manage it?"

"Disillusionment with sticking charms on the soles of my boots. Tricky part was getting down without waking anyone up."

The gathering crowd shifts uneasily at the thought of the resident mudblood creeping around while they sleep. Lucy scowls at them all.

"Oh, grow a spine! I've got better things to do than watch over you lot all night. You're not even that interesting."

"Tell me about it," Regulus mutters under his breath. Louder, he asks, "Did you have anything in particular planned?"

She sighs. "No, nothing spectacular. Not with Dumbledore dogging my every move and the time constraints. I have a meeting outside London at half past eleven."

"That's a shame. I was wondering if those charms for curing cheese could be used for something else."

Delight bubbles in Lucy's chest, making her blue eyes shine bright with humor. That was, in fact, why she'd kept the book for so long.

"You know, I had that exact same thought."

Regulus answers with his wolffish smile. "How charming. I'd like to say a few words before you begin."

"Of course. After you, Lord Black."

Regulus smiles magnanimously, truly a king before his court. He's much better for the role than Lucius, though Lucy could be biased. The other Slytherins are watching them all with apprehension. A few of the older ones don't bother to hide their incredulity and exasperation, muttering about madness and 'last year, just a few more months of these two'.

"Good evening. By now, we're all aware of what occurred last night. I want it to be abundantly clear that I am not here on behalf of my cousins, or whatever it is that I'm supposed to call them now. I am here for Slytherin House."

He wrinkles his nose as he spares a glance for the student in the floor.

"Lucille has the right to retaliate against the threats made to her person and family, but it is my duty to protect the reputation of our house. Yaxley threatened a three year old in front of witnesses. Gryffindor witnesses. Have you heard the things they're saying about us? Have you seen what they're doing to the younger students? I was late to History of Magic because I had to send a couple of third years to the Hospital Wing in defense of one of my charges and you know I do not like my naps interrupted."

Severus doesn't bother to hide his amused snort.

"To make matters worse, he was publicly humiliated by two mudbloods on two separate occasions and later reprimanded by an auror. The Dark Lord will not be pleased."

"Please," Yaxley chokes out, stretching pitifully across the carpet. He peers up with red rimmed, bloodshot eyes. "Please don't tell. Please."

"You're even more of an imbecile than I realized if you don't think he already knows."

Regulus raises his wand and in a very bored tone, says, "Crucio."

A high, tremulous scream it off the walls as Yaxley's limbs convulse. It carries on and on, unwavering, until Regulus lowers his wand. His body is still drawn tight even after it relaxes against the floor. The temperature in the room drops dangerously. The younger ones probably haven't dealt with an infraction as serious as this. As for the older ones, they're abruptly reminded just exactly who Regulus Black is. His madness is not the charming ploy so many of the girls like to believe. He is a Black. His lineage is a millenia of dark magic and incest. There was never any hope for him. The worst of it all is that he will face no repercussions for whatever he decides to do. He has enough power, wealth, and influence to make even Lord Voldemort treat him with respect in public dealings.

Lucy shakes herself out of her thoughts and steps forward, her head strategically tilted to the side. She would have liked to wear something more dramatic, but heels and a dress wouldn't be practical for her dreadful sort of nightlife. Instead, she's dressed in her combat robes with soft leggings tucked into her basilisk boots. She crouches down to run a finger down Yaxley's nose.

"I am of the opinion that a crucio is dreadfully uninspired but they'll start spouting nonsense if I don't prove myself capable."

He whimpers pathetically.

"Please," he whines, his eyes wet with tears. "Please, Lucy."

Part of her, the girl that Ted loves so much, the girl that Sirius thinks she is, hesitates. She doesn't get off on the power like others do. She's never been overly concerned with it. It's always been about survival for her. Lucy wants to live. She wants a long life with Nymph and Ted and Andy and Sirius and Violet and Severus, exploring all thst magic has to offer, traveling the world and learning everything she can. She's never got off on fear or pain. It's just so happened that it's easier to get what she wants if everyone thinks she does.

Lucy shoves that girl deep inside and occludes as if Voldemort himself were in the room.

"Crucio."

Neon red light flashes from the tip of her wand to Yaxley's chest. This time, his back arches off the carpet and his face contorts into a silent scream. She holds it until the scream comes, higher and more terrible than it was under Regulus. It isn't that she's more powerful than Regulus. Quite the opposite, probably. It's only that she means it more than he ever could. He's never met Nymph. He hasn't watched her grow or heard her laugh or woke up to her crawling into his bed.

"You lot always look down on muggles. You think they're useless and pitiful, but you always forget there's a reason we have to hide from them." Lucy summons a silk pillow and transfigures it into a cotton towel, then charms it to Yaxley's face. "Your arrogance has made you stagnant. Unimaginative. So bored that you resort to genocide because you can't think of anything better to do. Aquamenti.

"Muggles call it waterboarding," she explains over Yaxley's choking. "It's a popular torture technique used on prisoners of war. In fact, some elite soldiers and intelligence operatives undergo waterboarding and other tortures to sort of build a tolerance. It's a fascinating study on psychology."

After several minutes, she moves on to dry-boarding, eventually providing a steady commentary on all the muggle torture she's aware of. Most of it comes from movies or tv shows, but her audience doesn't know what those are. Coincidentally, some of the demonstrations relieve Yaxley of personal effects that could be useful in spells and potions. Hair, fingernails, blood. It hardly escapes anyone's notice when his bits and pieces mysteriously disappear.

Finally, when she's just about ran out of ideas, the watch on her wrist vibrates. It's eleven o clock. She bites back a frown. She'd hoped to be done before now.

"Well, I suppose that all for tonight's lesson," she announces.

She flicks her wand at the ceiling in a complicated pattern. A wave of magic rushes through the room, leaving the iron taste of blood on everyone's tongues. Yaxley doesn't even move. He stays prone on the floor, his bruised and blooded chest rising in slow, shallow intervals.

"Any questions?"

Her classmates stare back at her with queasy expressions. Some can't even bring themselves raise their gaze from the floor.

Regulus sighs heavily, only partly for show.

"I do wish you'd come around more often. You make things so interesting."

"I'll think about it."

"Please do."

He surprises her by pulling her in to kiss her cheek.

"Take care of my brother, Lucille," he whispers.

Lucy returns his kiss like Andromeda taught her and promises to keep Sirius from doing anything too reckless. As she leaves, she pauses only long enough to watch Regulus snap at someone to clean Yaxley up before disappearing into the prefect dormitory. Severus lets out a long-suffering sigh as he leaves to collect his potions. Lucy smiles fondly. This is why she does what she does. This is why she is who she is.

Settle it into your bones. Breathe it into your lungs.

It isn't enough. Sirius Black materializes in the Hospital Wing hours later with a sword in one hand and a half-dead witch thrown over his other shoulder.