CHAPTER 1

In the living room of Spinner's End, I lie on the sofa, my head on the far side from Snape's armchair, one arm covering my eyes and the opposite hand protecting my side as if an attack my come while I'm unprepared in this house. Despite how unlikely such a turn of events would be, it feels safer to always have something over that area right now. It's not like Bellatrix will show up and punch you directly in your wound, a voice tells me, and I roll my eyes at it though it's only in my head. Sure, she might not show up and purposefully hit my injury, but she could potentially show up and just Cruciate me for sport, just to hear me scream while she cackles and tries to win the affection of her Lord and Master.

You know that's not true. You know that's not true. Stop it. Even Narcissa said she would have made the same choice to hurt Draco, and you know how much she loves Draco.

I inadvertently sigh, and Snape simply says, "Stop it. You're safe here."

If Legilimency wasn't something with which I'm intimately familiar at this point, I'd believe he read my mind. For the briefest moment, my chest fills with emotion at how well he knows me now. I remove my arm from my eyes and Conjure a pillow beneath my head to brace me upward just a bit. Chatting with him feels less weird if I am not fully lying down. "I'm trying."

"Should we resume potions lessons to give you something to do?"

"Standing for long periods of time doesn't seem ideal. But maybe we can start those next week?"

"You can brew from a chair," he says. "We can shorten the table."

I grin at him. "Can we start that later today? It feels kind of nice just lying here right now." He nods. "Can I ask you a question?" He sets aside the book he's been reading, giving me his full attention. "What happened when I was in St. Mungo's?"

"I don't know what you mean. The Healers did everything they could."

"Not with me. What I mean—you were here alone. Are you—are you okay?"

"I'm alive, aren't I? I clearly didn't off myself, if that's what you're asking." I smile at his bluntness and open my mouth to say more, but he continues, a little coldness in his voice that warns me not to keep pushing him, "If you're asking me how I mourned the loss of a friend out of sight from the other Death Eaters, I will not entertain that conversation."

"That's not—that's not really what I wanted to know." Though it does break my heart to imagine him sitting in this house, drinking and crying like he did after Lily died. Was he staring down at a newspaper article about Dumbledore's death? I wish I could have been here for him, could have known the truth and tried to offer him some sort of comfort. "Did you go to Grimmauld Place?"

"Where?" he asks, no hint of understanding in his voice.

I roll my eyes at him. "I know you were in the Order, Professor. Dumbledore told me, so please stop with that lie." He harumphs but says nothing. "I'm asking because Kingsley Shacklebolt told me, when he took me to see McGonagall, that they've put protections around Sirius's home specifically to keep you out. I just thought you should know so you wouldn't go and get yourself injured. I don't know what sort of protections they are though. I was in too much pain to keep talking and walking at the same time."

"I know about their enchantments."

"How?"

"That's the headquarters of the Order. Naturally, they would put up protections against anyone who would do something so heinous as to—" His voice cracks, and his light tone dissipates. "They would want to protect the space from anyone they deem a threat. I am now firmly a threat."

My chest tightens. He knew exactly how they would ostracize him, how they would believe very easily that he murdered Dumbledore in cold blood, and has already taken all of that into account. How can he live with it? The knowledge that everyone who ever knew him believes he's merely a murderer, a lap dog to the Dark Lord? It's not fair to him. What Dumbledore asked was not fair, and for a moment, my heart hardens against the old man. How dare he ask something so monumental, so life-upending. That's why he wrote to you. At least now, Snape has one person on his side who knows the truth. He won't be completely isolated. My voice is airy when I say, "Why would he do this to you, Professor?"

Snape frowns. "I now am the most trusted of all of the Dark Lord's followers. That is a . . . small price to pay for what must be done."

"And what must be done?"

He seems on the verge of answering when his eyes fall to his left forearm. "It seems I am being summoned. I'm not sure how long this will be, but as you're in no condition to be cooking, why don't you start thinking about what we should summon for dinner?"

I smile at the casualness with which we now speak, more grateful than I realized to have his friendship, because that's what he is now. I've accepted it; Snape is my friend. "I will do my best to think of something," I say to him as he Disapparates, pleasantly surprised at how accommodating and amenable he has been this time around compared to how he was last year. I've only just started trying to think about food a few moments later when he reappears, looking solemn and sending my heart plummeting. "What's happened?"

"The Dark Lord has demanded your presence."

The blood drains from my face, my hand flattening against my wound. "It's too early. He wouldn't—I'm already injured! He can't—"

"I don't believe this relates to your duty. It's not even July yet." He walks toward me and helps me sit up straighter, then pulls me to my feet. "You'll be fine. Brace for Apparition." I tighten my hold on his arm and close my eyes, whining with my mouth shut for the full journey until we stop in the drawing room of Malfoy Manor.

Footsteps approach us quickly, and suddenly there are soft hands on my arms. "Are you all right?" Narcissa asks.

"I'll be fine; it just takes a minute to stop hurting."

"Thank you, Severus."

"Narcissa."

"If she's not well enough to Apparate herself back to your house, I will bring her after her meeting." He Disapparates.

When I finally open my eyes, Narcissa is the only one in the room with me. "Have I done something wrong?"

"Not as far as I know. The Dark Lord simply wants to speak with you."

She puts her arm around my shoulders and leads me from the drawing room. Bellatrix stands just outside the room, but I don't bother to speak with her. Her eyes are sunken again, similar to how she looked in her Azkaban photo. After confirming she didn't follow us, I ask, "Has he been torturing her?"

Narcissa glances down at me. "I'm not sure anything I say will be what you want to hear."

I frown. "Well, that could've been the worst thing to say."

"Don't kill the messenger, Charlotte, but she's been torturing herself."

I stop moving. "Like . . . has she been Cruciating herself?"

"That's not possible." Heat rises to my cheeks at the matter-of-fact tone she uses, my question making me feel small and stupid. With a little pressure on my back, she makes us keep moving. "She blames herself for the knife and has not been . . . coping with your reaction to the Cruciatus Incident."

"What a delicate way of referencing when she Cruciated me for so long that my eyes bled."

"Your eyes bled?" she asks, almost breathless.

"She failed to mention that, did she? Or that I was flailing around so hard I smashed my nose against the floor and broke it?" Narcissa's arm tightens around me as she takes a shaky breath. "Did she tell you that I almost killed her?"

"I've seen the bruises."

"I could've done it, you know. I wanted to."

"Then why didn't you?" she asks. "What stopped you?"

My lips start quivering. "How—how could I possibly kill my mum when—when she's who I've been looking for my whole life?"

"And you believe she doesn't feel similarly?" I avert my gaze from her, and we finish our short walk in silence until we reach the door leading to the room the Dark Lord always summons me from. "I'll wait to collect you here."

"Thanks, Aunt Cissy." Her lips turn up in a slight smile, and I draw strength from that to enter the room. "My Lord," I say, closing the door.

"Dear one," he greets me without even looking up from Nagini, whose head is in his lap. "Come here." Without a word or sigh of complaint, I claim the chair adjacent to his in front of the fire. He remains quiet, running his hands over Nagini's head for a few moments. "The last time your mother lost you, she was fierce, deliciously destructive." Finally, his red eyes look up from the snake and fall on me, sending chills across my skin. "Your presence has corrupted my best lieutenant. Since losing you again this time, she has become weak. This is not the Bellatrix that I trained, who swore her life to me. The Bellatrix outside this room is a shadow."

"I don't see—"

He raises his hand, and I fall silent. "We must correct the corruption that has ruined her."

My palms grow sweaty. "Will you kill me?"

"Are you not listening? I cannot take you from her again. Not right now." Not right now. My chest tightens. "I must give you back to her."

Why does he make me sound like a doll being passed back and forth? "I don't want to live here."

"Nor will I allow you. That will be too much of a distraction for her."

"What do you want me to do, my Lord?" I ask quietly, just wanting him to get to his point so I can flee the manor.

"Every day for one hour, you must be at the manor."

I frown. "What?"

"You must return to the manor each day so that your mother—"

"Did she ask for this?" His red eyes bear into me, and I realize too late that I have interrupted him. "I'm sorry, my Lord. I'm just confused."

"You do not have to understand. You simply must be here."

"An hour of my choosing?"

"So long as you are awake and can appease your mother." He's letting her play with her toy for an hour each day. How generous. "I need my best lieutenant."

"Does my one hour start today?"

"Yes."

I nod. "Shall I go start my hour now, my Lord, or—"

"You may go."

I give him a slight bow, then exit the room, blood pounding in my ears. As promised, Narcissa stands just outside the door, leaning against the wall, fiddling with her wand. She looks up at me. "Are you all right?"

"Every day for one hour, I must come here and be in Bellatrix's presence. Where is she? I want to leave as quickly as possible."

She slides her arm through mine. "I'll take you to her."

"No, take me to wherever you're planning to be, and she can come to me. I won't be alone with her right now."

Narcissa nods understandingly and begins leading me through the manor, to an area I have only seen once: the study. There could be worse places to spend my hour. We step through the doors, and my mouth opens in a slight gasp. Lucius is home. When did he get out of Azkaban? Narcissa smiles when she sees her husband, whereas he just looks at me with an expression of confusion and annoyance. "When did you get out?" I ask him as Narcissa and I take seats on the sofa by the fire. "How are you?"

Lucius stands from his desk and approaches us but does not sit down with us. "Better than you," he says, his voice flat. "I was not here for the spectacle but have heard about it many times. Cruciated by your own mother . . ."

"Where is she? I'll just go to her."

Narcissa glares at him but says, "Cosmo." The elf appears. "Fetch Bella for me. Tell her to come to the study."

Lucius grimaces and spins on his heal to return to his desk. "Not a fan of your wife's sister, uncle?" I ask innocently.

"You expect me to believe you enjoy your time around her any more than I do?" he replies, sitting back down.

I'm fighting down a smile when Bellatrix Apparates into the room, her eyes searching the room frantically until they find me sitting with Narcissa on the sofa, our hands clasped together. "Aurelia," she whispers, stepping toward me.

I throw my hand up. "Don't touch me. I'm here for one hour. You may sit in my presence, but you cannot touch me or your wand." Lucius chuckles from across the room, but Bellatrix does not fight me, instead choosing to sit in the chair adjacent to the sofa. I Conjure an hourglass and set it on the coffee table in front of me, then lean back, cross my legs, and fold my hands into my lap. My gaze lands on Bellatrix, who looks from me to the hourglass to Narcissa and back to me.

"Should I . . . summon some cards?" Narcissa asks pleasantly.

"Not today, Aunt Cissy," I say. "It still hurts a bit to lean forward too much."

Bellatrix's eyes flutter to my abdomen, and she clenches her jaw. "Are you not healing well?"

"As well as I can be. My body went through some trauma that day, and I think—"

"You cannot keep throwing that—"

"It was less than a week ago! Yes, I can!"

"It was Cruciate you or watch you die. What would you have me do?" she asks exasperatedly.

"Offer to be Cruciated in my stead," I say, throat tightening.

"That wasn't an option."

"You could've tried." I turn to Narcissa. "Would you have tried? Given the choice between the Dark Lord and Draco, would you have tried? Don't lie."

Narcissa glances at Bellatrix, then sighs. "I would have offered exactly once, but I don't think—"

"See, Bellatrix, that's what a real mother does."

My mother closes her eyes for a moment, and when she opens them again, they're filled with ice. "Bella, no," Narcissa says quickly, as if she could read Bellatrix's mind and could see that whatever she was about to say would have been a step too far.

I lean against my aunt, and Bellatrix's expression hardens. "Oh, it must be so easy for the two of you. You, Aurelia, desperate for a mother figure, latching onto the first woman you meet who is connected with the Dark Lord—how lucky she turned out to be your mother's sister, an easy surrogate, an easy replacement. And you, Cissy, who couldn't be bothered to find her as a child despite knowing what her duty was. You walked around free in this manor while she scrounged and fought to survive each day, yet I am the one who is punished for being locked away and unable to find my daughter. Now you have her to mold into whatever your heart desires despite letting her rot for six years. Now you have a younger Bellatrix that you can make all your own in case I am sent away again."

I roll my eyes at her. "Oh, please. Listen to your little pity party. I don't blame you for being locked in Azkaban, Mother, I blame you for Cruciating me! Twice! The worst she's ever done was slap me across the face when—"

"You did what to her?" Bellatrix's head swivels to Narcissa, eyes ablaze with rage.

"You don't get to act that defensive," I say.

Narcissa looks over at me. "When—"

"Before we found out who I am, you slapped me across the face because I made a rude comment about the girl who was chosen for my duty before me. I joked about her offing herself, and you just"—I mimic a backhand—"right across my face. At Christmas, when you sent Draco inside so you could yell at me for playing games with him."

Narcissa frowns. "I did." Then she reaches up and very gently touches each of my cheeks. "I'm sorry, Charlotte. If it's any consolation, I never would have done that had I known your identity."

I bark out a laugh, then put pressure against my aching side. "Yeah, I think lot would've been different had we known who I am. But I forgive you. That slap is—just water under the bridge." My eyes fall on Bellatrix. "Do you see how easy it is to fucking apologize to me when you hurt me? Instead of immediately beginning to defend yourself?" She watches me blankly. "Blood running from my eyes, from my broken nose that you caused, and you didn't even apologize. 'I had no choice!' Sure. You had no choice. Where's my goddamn apology?"

"Aurelia, I—"

"Um, absolutely not. Not right now. You do that shit organically or not at all." Her eyes flare with rage, and for a moment, I see the Cruciatus Curse coming at me again, wrapping itself around me and making me beg for death. Instead, a spark flies from the end of her wand and burns a hole in the rug. I cross my arms and look at her. "Do you know how to make Danishes?"

The change of subjects shocks the anger off her face. "What?"

"Danishes. The pastries. Do you know how to make them?"

"Why are you asking?"

"I had one recently and really enjoyed it and would like another eventually, but I don't know how to make them."

"I'm not your house-elf."

"No, you're my mother. I didn't realize asking for something like that would be such an imposition after you Cruciated me. One of those is definitely—"

Bellatrix stands abruptly, blasts the hourglass with a silent spell—I flinch and cover my injured side, then take Narcissa's hand, trying to shrink myself against her. My mother's eyes land on us, and she scowls. "Your hour is up for today. You're free to leave."

I give Narcissa's hand a squeeze. "Until next time, Aunt Cissy." I stand. "You're not my favorite person, Lucius, but I'm glad you're home. Aunt Cissy missed you terribly." I look back at my mother and bow dramatically. "Madam Lestrange. A pleasure as always."

Rather than Apparating straight into the living room of Spinner's End, I come to a stop just outside the front door and cast a Silencing Spell over myself to let myself sob openly. She doesn't even seem to care about what she's done to me. She can sit there with a stone face and pretend that everything is fine. I brace one hand on the doorframe and put the other against my side protectively, then just let myself weep. How could this have happened? I loved her so much and truly thought she felt the same way. Was I blind? Was I stupid? This answer is, of course, yes to both of these questions.

I was a fool, a child who wanted her mother.

Perhaps I should not have asked her for anything. Perhaps we're at the point where I can never ask her for anything again.

I will move beyond her.

Once the tears have dried somewhat, I take a deep breath, wipe my face, and open the door. Snape is nowhere to be seen, but as there are not tons of hiding spots at Spinner's End, I make my way to the basement, where he is standing above a cauldron. "Charlotte," he greets me. "What did the Dark Lord—"

"I have to spend an hour each day at the manor." His face is impassive, but his eyes signal frustration. "Apparently, losing me didn't make Bellatrix as violent as last time. She's just miserable, and the Dark Lord wants to appease her."

"A child whose favorite toy was taken away," Snape comments, his tone dripping with malice. "Will you manage?"

I shrug. "What're you brewing?"

"More salve for your wound." Gratitude swirls into my chest. "You need to be using more than you are, considering the pain you're still in."

Now is as good a time as any to ask for something. After all, he's in a good mood and is doing something to help me of his own volition. "Can . . . can I ask a favor? Or permission?"

He looks at me with suspicion. "It depends on what you want permission to do."

"If I promise to come back"—the corner of his mouth turns up—"could I have some time each day to . . . go see people? People who aren't Death Eaters or—this isn't about wanting to get away from you, because I actually enjoy my time with you . . . for the most part." His suspicion morphs into amusement. "But, I'd like to go visit other people too."

"Which people? And for how long?"

"People like Andromeda and McGonagall and . . . and Zoe. I'll come back, and it doesn't have to be every day, but—"

"Yes," he says, looking more sympathetic than necessary.

I smile, both relieved and surprised. "Could—would—is it fine if I go see Andromeda now?"

Snape looks down at the cauldron for a moment before turning his attention back to me. "Yes, but you must be back in one hour, and I will be choosing our dinner."

"Will I be cooking it?"

"No."

"Brilliant. Um . . . I'll see you later."

He nods at me, and I Apparate to the Tonks' front door and knock once. Andromeda cracks the door open, and I smile broadly at her. "Hello," I say.

"Charlotte?" She opens the door for me to enter. "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I just . . . I wanted to come see you if that's okay. Are you busy?"

Andromeda watches me with kind eyes, and the expression almost makes me cry because I would give anything to have Bellatrix look at me like that. "Not right now." We sit on the sofa. "How are you healing?"

"It's . . . fine. It hurts less each day."

"How did you get out of the manor?"

"Can I tell you something and you not immediately distrust me?"

"Don't say it like that. What's going on?"

"Narcissa is supposed to be watching me right now, but she . . . pities me. She doesn't know I'm here, of course, but she let me leave temporarily."

Andromeda's eyes narrow. "Narcissa? And how does she expect—"

I pull the charmed necklace from under my robes. "She gave me this a while back. When she needs me to return, it grows hot, and I Apparate back. If I need her, I can summon her."

"Be very careful with that. I don't want her ruining my house should you accidentally call her here."

"Why would she ruin—"

"Because I will attack, and she will defend herself." I laugh loudly at this and make a show of carefully returning the necklace inside my robes. "I'm surprised she shows you any sort of kindness; that doesn't seem to align with who she is anymore."

I pick at my nails. "I—how much do you hate them, her and Bellatrix?"

"I'm indifferent toward them mostly, but should they disrupt my life—"

"I ask because I don't want to make you sad if you miss them or wish you could still have them in your life." She waves this away as if nothing I could say would possibly upset her, so I continue, "She's nice to me because of Bellatrix. She . . . loves her deeply, and I'm an extension of Bellatrix now." Andromeda nods, her face more solemn than I thought it'd be. "She mourned me as Aurelia almost my whole life. Now that I'm here"—I shrug—"she doesn't seem inclined to do anything to push me away. She's been an ally to me since we discovered who I am, even when Bellatrix was . . . well, when she was being a bitch."

This makes Andromeda laugh quietly. "She's always had a habit of doing that."

We avoid discussing Bellatrix and Narcissa again for the rest of my visit, instead focusing on Hogwarts and my healing and any other topic that does not make either of us melancholic. Tonks and Lupin are exceedingly happy together, and Andromeda seems over the moon that her daughter has found such happiness. It makes me wonder if Bellatrix will ever be that happy for me. Not if it's Zoe you find love with.

I leave the time Snape dictated, returning to Spinner's End with a lightness in my chest that partially makes me mourn that much more for a mother I will never have.