Escape: Severing by Lucie Lux
Summary: Nothing is ever simple when it comes to the Black family. On the train ride home for Christmas, for what will be the last time, sixteen-year-old Sirius makes a confession to James. After arriving, he must deal with unpleasant surprises and face the consequences of his actions, and Bellatrix isn't making things any easier.
Categories: Marauder Era Characters: None
Warnings: None
Challenges:
Series: None
Chapters: 2 Completed: No Word count: 6009 Read: 4997 Published: 07/03/08 Updated: 08/11/08

1. Prologue by Lucie Lux

2. Part I by Lucie Lux

Prologue by Lucie Lux
Sirius Black flung his empty bag onto his bed and glared at it.

“The results are in, Padfoot, and it turns out that glowering is actually not the most effective way of packing.” James’ voice came from the doorway, where he had leaned casually against the frame to study his friend. His voice was light, but a shadow hovered behind his eyes. He was here with every intention of cheering Sirius up, having followed him up to the dorm after he stormed out of the Great Hall in the middle of breakfast without a word of explanation to the other boys, but James wasn’t sure how effective his mission would be.

Something in Sirius’ mounting silences over the last few days had convinced James that he should not be left to his own devices so long as any of them could help it. Something in Sirius’ look this morning had convinced James that the uneaten and shredded bits of toast Sirius had tossed at his pumpkin juice represented much more than frustration at being made to go home. Something in the tenseness of Sirius’ shoulders as he walked away from the table had told James that he should follow.

“That’s fine with me,” Sirius declared shortly, without taking his eyes off the bag that remained in a pathetic heap in the center of his red and gold bed cover.

“Look mate, since you’re forced to go back to your parents’ for Christmas, you may as well make sure you’ve got clean underwear with you. No need to make things worse than they’ll already be.”

James was rewarded with a quick smile, a flash of white teeth and toss of long dark hair. Maybe things weren’t as bad as he’d been speculating.

Sirius flopped onto the bed on top of his bag. “When we’re back in London, I’m taking you to that place I found ‘round the side of Diagon Alley, with the funny hats and exploding mothballs.”

“First chance we get,” James promised.

Sirius’ eyes darkened again. “More like, if we get a chance. If I manage to get out of that hole on Grimmauld for a decent amount of time.”

“Don’t do that,” James protested, coming over to Sirius’ bed and clambering up to perch on the footboard. “We’ll see each other, mate. We have every Christmas since first year.”

“This year is…isn’t going to be the same,” Sirius said carefully, sitting up to look James in the eye. Something passed between them, and James’ concern for Sirius was re-awakened full fold. They held each other’s eyes for a long moment, during which it became clear that Sirius wasn’t going to elaborate further unless James made him.

“Sirius…” James started, but he was interrupted when the door opened again and Remus came in.

He paused, looking from one dark friend to another, taking in their positions and expressions, and finally seemed to decide to ignore whatever tension lingered in the still air.

“You two missed an owl from Peter at breakfast,” he said quietly, crossing the room to his own bed and sitting on the edge, shaking light hair out of his eyes. “He’s apparently having a delightful time with his mum on the coast of Morocco. Caught some pretty fish, found some pretty shells, got terrifically sunburnt his first day out.”

James studied Sirius for a moment more before turning to Remus. “Peter,” he said with a crooked smile, “would be the only one of us to go somewhere exciting for Christmas and end up with only common sea creatures and sunburns to talk about. I hope he manages to find more thrilling souvenirs to bring back to us than one of his shells.”

Sirius snorted from behind James and launched himself off the bed. “I’d offer to bring you back a thrilling souvenir from my parents’ house, if I wasn’t sure that all the useable artifacts were earmarked for Death Eaters long ago.” He picked up his bag again and considered it, looking as if he were trying to decide whether throwing it out the window or into the fireplace would be a better option.

Remus examined the object at which Sirius was busy directing his disdain and took note of its condition “ empty, still. “You know your train leaves in fifteen minutes, right Padfoot?”

When Sirius’ eyes met Remus’, there was a degree of desperation in them that made Remus feel cold. Sirius looked away quickly, and Remus was left wondering if there was anything he could possibly say to salve the ache he saw in his friend. He knew Sirius dreaded returning to his family for the holiday, but there was definitely something else, something deeper, that was troubling his friend.

“Bloody hell.” Sirius grumbled, throwing the bag onto his bed for the second time and pulling out his wand. The lid of his trunk flew open, and clothes, books, and other objects shot out violently to come crashing down mostly on his bed, excepting the three socks that got caught on the chandelier, and small mirror James managed to catch as it flew past him.

“Oi, careful Pads,” James said indignantly. “You break this and it becomes a lot harder for me to get in touch with you.”

But Sirius didn’t seem to hear him, too busy muttering a jumble of swear words and spells that sent several things soaring into his open bag, while everything else circled in the air around the room as if searching for a home. James began to doubt whether this method of packing was much more effective than glowering, and slid back down to the floor and went to sit by Remus, hoping to be more out of the way and thereby less likely to get hit by one of Sirius’ flying textbooks.

As Sirius flicked his wand again and sent every drawer in the room shooting open, Remus leaned over closer to James and said under his breath, “You’ve no better idea than I what’s got him so aggravated, do you?” When James shook his head, Remus went on, “Well, whether or not you manage to get it out of him any time soon, you will check in on him as often as you can, won’t you? Since you’ll both be in London?” James nodded, watching Sirius cause the chandelier to rock wildly back and forth until two of his socks were dislodged. “Let me know how things go, won’t you Prongs?” Remus asked finally, and James reached out to squeeze Remus’ shoulder in assent, never taking his eyes off Sirius, who was rummaging distractedly in the bottom of his trunk.

“James, I can’t find my two-way mirror,” he said with his head in the trunk, his voice anxious and rather muffled. “Do you remember if I had it when “ ”

“Right here, mate.” James stood and offered the mirror he was still holding to Sirius. “You nearly broke it in your packing frenzy a moment ago.”

Sirius took the mirror from James and pocketed it, then threw his bag over his shoulder, shaking his head so that his dark hair, disheveled from packing and trunk foraging, resettled gracefully about his face. “Right. So then.”

The three of them stood there, looking about the now-messy room, as if unsure what came next, until Remus finally said with a sigh, “Sirius, you’ve left a sock on the chandelier.”

Sirius grinned. “Something for you to remember me by.”

James scooped up his bag, sitting neatly at the foot of his bed and packed since the night before, and spoke up. “Shall we, then?”

With a grunt, Sirius flung open the dormitory door and disappeared into the hallway, James and Remus close behind.

They all walked down to the entrance hall together and stood around for a moment saying their good-byes, since Remus had elected to remain at Hogwarts over the break, staying busy with the sort of things teachers tended to ask prefects to do, and Sirius and James generally took no interest in.

Farewells made, James and Sirius turned to head towards the Express that would take them both south to London and their family homes. James was halfway out the door already when Sirius turned around again, strode quickly back to Remus who still stood by the stairway, and threw his arms around the slighter boy, squeezing tightly. “Wish we weren’t leaving you alone, Moony,” he said softly into Remus’ ear before pulling away. Remus looked up into Sirius’ set face as the taller boy added, “You know I’d take you home with me if I could, but I’m really not sure who that’d be worse for.”

Remus smiled at his friend. “I know. I’ll be fine. Just, write and tell me how things are, will you?”

Sirius nodded, and with a last smile conveying what he hoped was encouragement, headed out the door with James.

.&.

“Alright,” James said commandingly after they found an empty compartment on the train, entered, and stowed their things. He took Sirius by the shoulder and steered him to the seat by the window, pressed him down into it, and took the seat opposite. “What happened that’s made you so upset about going back home for few weeks? Other than the fact that the company is terrible, which has always been true.”

Sirius stared out the window at the passing countryside. “It’s been getting worse and worse, between me and them, every passing year. You know that.”

James didn’t take his gaze off Sirius. He knew already how this conversation would go; every time any of them tried to talk to Sirius about his family, it was like pulling teeth “ the Muggle way “ to get him to say anything substantial, but the more they asked, the less likely Sirius was to give details. James held the private theory that this was because Sirius hated situations that went entirely out of his control, and hated even more to discuss them in depth, being of the type that generally ignored things that didn’t go along with how he wanted things to go. Furthermore, deep and profound discussions about matters of the heart hardly fit with the carefree, rebellious and prankster persona Sirius had constructed about himself. Given that his family situation was one that Sirius loathed, had trouble making jokes about, and could do nothing to change, it made sense to James that Sirius avoided explaining in specifics “ but that didn’t mean that James was going to let him get away with it this time.

Sensing that he was under scrutiny, Sirius dragged his gaze from the window to James and raised his eyebrows. When James remained rather uncharacteristically quiet “ he was hoping to pressure information out of Sirius by making him speak first “ Sirius sighed and slouched back, propping his feet up on the seat next to James. “I never told you about the row I had with my mother at the very end of the summer. The day Reg and I were leaving to come back to Hogwarts.”

“Oh?” James didn’t want to say much more, hoping not to frighten “Serious Sirius” away too soon.

“She’s going to be especially unhappy with me when I get home.”

Sirius stared pensively at his knees without saying anything for a few more moments, until James felt it safe to prompt, “What did you do, then?”

A slightly bitter smile flickered across Sirius’ face. “I threw a family heirloom at her head and stormed out of the house. Went straight to the train station. Haven’t heard from the woman all term, but I imagine she’ll have an earful for me when I arrive.”

“A family heirloom? At her head?” James was careful not to sound incredulous, but he couldn’t simply say nothing. He knew Sirius’ usual method of survival at his parents’ involved not letting his mother know how much she got to him, and this didn’t sound like that.

“I went into Regulus’ bedroom that morning, I’ve forgotten why, but when I did I saw that he’d put these newspaper clippings up all over his wall…all about things having to do with Voldemort, like Reg was tracking the tortures, and the killings, like he was bloody worshipping every move the Dark Lord made. It looked like a bloody shrine, and it was disturbing.”

James winced in sympathy. “I didn’t know your brother was getting in so deep.”

Sirius’ face was sombre. “And then, right as we were about to leave, my mother said something about Voldemort possibly taking an interest in Regulus. The way she said it, I couldn’t tell if it’d already happened, or if she were newly suggesting it, but it was too much. My little brother, and that crowd…” This train of thought seemed to be one Sirius preferred not to pursue further, because he went on with, “It was too much, even for my mother. We ended up having another shouting match, and then I threw this terrible, ancient hourglass we’ve had sitting in our drawing room ever since I can remember - brimming with Dark Magic, and filled with what could only be something’s blood. Anyhow, I’ve always hated the thing, and it seemed like the perfect opportunity. I missed her, and the whole thing shattered against the wall. It was a terrific mess, at least,” Sirius finished appreciatively, and looked at James for his reaction.

“So this is why going home is so much worse this year than it’s been before?” James asked carefully.

Sirius shrugged. “Sure, along with the fact that Voldemort continues to gain power, and my family continues to strengthen their attachments to him, and the longer I spend around them the more I feel that I’m just…just standing by, when I should be actually doing something…”

He paused for a moment, seeming to gather his nerve, and then spoke again. “I’m rather sure that both of my cousins are Death Eaters, and that they have been “ or at least Bellatrix has been “ for awhile now. I’m pretty convinced that was something to to do with Andromeda leaving, and why my mother keeps saying she’s so proud of her brother Cygnus’ daughters.” The confession he’d been dreading for weeks finally made, he looked apprehensively to James, knowing that no one he “ nor any of their friends “ was associated with had taken such steps to swear allegiance with the Dark Lord.

James sighed heavily without looking up. “I’m sorry Padfoot, I really am. When did things start getting so complicated?” Looking up at Sirius, he saw the uneasiness written in his friend’s expression and reacted suddenly. “Hey, don’t look like that! We all know where you stand. No one doubts you, mate. You should know that.”

Sirius’ expression didn’t change. “It’s just…they’re my family, and I want nothing to do with them, but I can’t help it. They birthed me, but I hate the lot of them. They’re nothing but a bunch of arrogant hypocrites and pureblood maniacs with their heads up their arses.”

“They may be your family mate, but that doesn’t mean you belong to them,” James said quietly. “You belong to us, and that’s that.”

The two boys spent the rest of the journey discussing ways to get Sirius out of the house over Christmas, and plans for the following summer, and, Sirius’ favourite topic, plans for after graduating, when they’d finally be able to choose their ways of battling the Dark Lord and all his plots. By the time they arrived at King’s Cross, James was relieved to see that Sirius had regained at least some of his normal vigor. But when both of James’ parents appeared to collect him from the station, greeting the boys with hugs and hails of welcome, James saw Sirius grow subdued again, and knew his parents’ greeting made all too stark a contrast to where Regulus stood alone on the platform waiting for Sirius, looking resolute if slightly apprehensive.

With an sardonic twist of his mouth, Sirius explained, “He’s probably been given express instructions to keep a close eye on me and make sure I don’t go haring off to more pleasant alternatives than old Grimmauld.”

Mrs Potter smiled sympathetically at Sirius. “You know you’re always more than welcome with us, dear. I’ll be quite offended if you don’t come to see me before the holidays are past,” she teased, sending a playful wink in Sirius’ direction.

He winked back. “You know I’d call on you every day, Mrs Potter, if I thought your husband would allow it.”

“Keep that up, Padfoot, and I won’t invite you over anymore,” James said to Sirius, rolling his eyes.

Mr Potter grinned from where he stood with his arm around James’ shoulders. “You won’t have our blessing on that one, James. Expelling people from our home when they’ve become like family isn’t something you’re going to get away with.”

But the brightness of the Potters’ welcome, and the warmth of James as he hugged Sirius goodbye and whispered, “Stay in touch, Pads” had all but faded twenty minutes later as Sirius trudged along behind Regulus through northwest London, dampened by an icy fog and his very dark mood. Regulus kept glancing back over his shoulder at Sirius, who finally got fed up with this behaviour enough to lengthen his stride and catch up with his still-smaller brother. The two walked side-by-side in silence for several blocks, until Sirius began to feel it was up to him to try and bridge the gulf between them.

“Suppose it was too much trouble for someone to come and collect us,” he offered finally, glancing sideways at his brother’s face “ proud grey eyes identical to his own, aristocratic nose and determined jaw, dark hair now damp and curling around his ears. “Though it’s rather hard to imagine Mother in a Christmas frenzy of wrapping packages and baking pies.”

Regulus didn’t turn, but kept his eyes fixed ahead of him as he replied, “The parents had a dinner party. Someone Aunt Druella knows, supposed to be very influential in the Ministry right now.”

“Influential in the right way, or the wrong way?” Sirius mused darkly, and after Regulus answered “I don’t believe we define those the same way”, they finished the last few blocks in silence again.

Number 12 Grimmauld Place appeared to them as it always did, emerging out of the nothingness between numbers 11 and 13, but as they stood in the entryway just inside the door, shedding wet cloaks and shoes, Sirius was surprised to see a tall, graceful figure that was definitely not Kreacher making its way down the front staircase.

“Bella!” Regulus exclaimed, sounding pleased, and Sirius suppressed a groan as he realized that his holiday had suddenly become twice as grim as he had expected.
Part I by Lucie Lux
“Hello, little cousin.” The woman’s voice was perhaps permanently cold, but she greeted Regulus with warmth enough, gripping his forearms and leaning in to kiss him. She ignored Sirius entirely, and he returned the favour, continuing to wring water out of his drenched cloak, letting it puddle on the richly carpeted floor.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d be here.” Regulus continued. “I’d heard it was likely you’d be spending Christmas with the Yaxleys.”

On a less beautiful woman, Bellatrix’s expression might have been called one of annoyance. “I’ve broken things off with Claudius. He bored me, and besides, his mother was a indolent whore,” she said dismissively.

Regulus chuckled. “Your parents can’t be pleased, though. This is the second proposal you’ve rejected this year.”

“Fourth over all,” she said, sounding viciously satisfied with her score.

“Parents been bribing you to stay away from their sons again, have they?” Sirius muttered under his breath as he discarded his second damp shoe and straightened up again.

Bellatrix turned her chilly smile on him, her dark eyes taunting. “The same might be said of you, dear one. How is that little Potter fellow these days?”

Sirius scowled, but lost the chance to retort when Kreacher appeared at the top with the announcement, “Masters’ and Mistress’ parents will be home soon, and tea has been prepared.” Bellatrix swept Regulus up the staircase in front of her without another glance in his direction. Sirius trailed after them, dropping his bag on top of Kreacher, who was busying himself drying and smoothing the wet cloak Regulus had left behind. Kreacher returned Sirius’ scowl venom for venom, but said nothing, and Sirius went up the grand staircase and followed the voices he heard into the parlour, where Regulus was greeting Narcissa and their mother’s parents Pollux and Irma. He hung about the doorway briefly, trying to decide whether or not to go in, but when he’d been standing there for several minutes and no one had so much as looked over at him, he decided it was safe to escape up to his room and avoid further notice.

Sirius spent much of the next few days in his room, reading and sulking and trying spells he wasn’t supposed to (his seventeenth birthday was not until the following summer, but with the plethora of adult witches and wizards in the house, he knew there was hardly a chance of Magical Law Enforcement catching him at it). He spoke to James in the mirror as often as he could, but James seemed much busier than he, shopping and attending parties with his parents, though every time they spoke James asked when Sirius thought he could come to stay. “It’s terrifically boring without you around, mate,” James would declare, hazel eyes earnest as he pushed messy black hair away from his face in a familiar gesture that made Sirius miss his friend more than ever. “Get over here soon so we can test that Smothering Charm on the draperies in my mother’s parlour.”

His longing to be with James grew worse a few days later, when James appeared breathlessly in the mirror, hair even more rumpled than usual, with soot marks on his face and upturned collar, and announced, “I’ve just practically blown up the receiving room, Sirius! You should see the hole in the ceiling!” “What did your parents say?” Sirius asked incredulously, but James only grinned and said, “Oh, they thought it was a laugh. My dad wanted to know what kind of charm had ‘gone wrong’.” Sirius could only shake his head, and wonder what his mother would say if any hole attributable to Sirius appeared in their house.

Sirius wrote several long letters to Remus back at Hogwarts, and sent exploding postcards to Peter, and there were several days when the only time he left his room was for dinner in the evenings, an event he knew from long experience was not something at which his absence would be excused.

Dinner with the Blacks was an elaborate, formal affair, especially with so much family visiting Grimmauld for the holidays. By some stroke of what Sirius thought was sheer bad luck (though time would reveal otherwise), he kept finding himself seated across from Bellatrix, who would inquire nastily about what he did to himself in his room all day, and twirl her steak knife about in her long, pale fingers, and purse her dark red lips at the ripped-up blue jeans and t-shirt printed with a flaming motorbike that Sirius would wear to dinner because he knew his mother couldn’t stand to see him in Muggle clothing.

Sirius would retort with a dig about her frigid nature or directed at her current condition “ twenty-five and still living at home with the parents, how did she expect to proliferate the pureblood race that way? “ until one of their various elders would notice, and tell Sirius to behave himself, unless it was Sirius’ mother, who would use this opportunity to launch into a detailed critique of everything from his school performance (yet another letter from Hogwarts saying he’d sneaked into the Slytherin common room and released doxies to wreck havoc) to his habits (swears like a jarvey, and slouches to no end) to his appearance (those dreadful clothes, and couldn’t even manage a proper haircut).

Sirius had long ago grown tired of these sorts of insults, and after years of training himself to ignore them, was by now rather immune. Still, there was only so much a sixteen-year-old boy could take, and more than once he found himself snapping back at his mother, and then feeling slightly surprised at both his own lack of self-control and his mother’s willingness to abandon all sense of propriety in order to attack him. The woman was no longer the stately, intimidating figure Sirius remembered from his childhood. When they fought now, he found himself seriously questioning her sanity, wondering if her mind hadn’t taken a turn for the worse.

.&.

Christmas morning dawned bright and clear, and as Sirius stared out of his bedroom window at the bright, early morning sunlight striking the ice that covered the square across the street, he felt a strange sense of foreboding come over him. He had dragged himself from his oversized, cold bed at the break of day, perched in the window seat, and watched the sun rise while trying to keep from brooding too much. The pressure had been building in the house for weeks now, things said piling upon things unsaid; it couldn’t be much longer, he was sure, before something hit the ceiling. He could sense that a blow-up was imminent; what he wasn’t sure of was whether he would be able to endure the outcome.

He shivered. The sun’s rays had brought little warmth with them as they crept over the edges of his windowpane, and the draft seeping through the glass raised gooseflesh across the bare skin of his chest and legs, but he refused to wear the supplied black dressing gown embroidered with the family crest. He’d rather pad about his room in only his boxers than encase himself in the “Toujours Pur” symbol of his family’s mania. He smiled briefly, remembering the time he and James had celebrated Gryffindor’s winning the Quidditch Cup by running through the Great Hall clad only in their red and gold underwear, and wondered what his friend would say if he could see him now, huddled in the window seat and refusing to put on a silly dressing gown.

He turned away from the window finally with a heavy sigh. It was going to be a long day, but there was no delaying it any longer. He was expected at Christmas brunch shortly, and didn’t have the energy this early in the day to wage the battle that would ensue were he late to arrive.

Sirius crossed the large room to his wardrobe, where he pulled on the same tattered blue jeans he’d been wearing all week to annoy his mother, then finished dressing normally in one of the many sets of black robes hanging before him. As an afterthought, he dug through the bag he’d brought with him from Hogwarts until he found his school tie, emblazoned with the red and gold of Gryffindor, and set about knotting it neatly beneath his collar. He wanted the familiar colours on him, not only because they set him apart from the rest of his family, but also because he thought he could use the extra courage the Gryffindor colours inspired in him on this of all days.

Just before leaving his room, he glanced at the photo of the Marauders he’d attached to the wall just next to his mirror. It was one of his favourite pictures of the four of them, taken just after they’d completed O.W.L.s the year prior. They stood close together on the grounds of Hogwarts, the Whomping Willow in the distance behind them, smiling and laughing in relief that the year was over. In the photo, Sirius stood next to James, his arm slung over James’ shoulders, and the world around them was bright and untarnished. He smiled at his carefree self in the photo, and wondered at what point Hogwarts and these boys had become home and family to him in place of his current surroundings. He reached out and touched the photo briefly, for luck, he told himself, before turning to stride out the door.

He was stopped short on the landing when he almost walked into Regulus.

His brother stood just outside his own bedroom, directly across from Sirius’, his head turned slightly away to glance back at his own doorway, though he faced about quickly when he heard Sirius come out of the room. The two stared at each other for a long moment, until Sirius broke the silence.

“Happy Christmas, then.”

At these words, Regulus finally met his eyes, looking rather hopeful and confused and worried all at once.

“Happy Christmas, Sirius.”

“Your tie is dreadful.”

Regulus wore his school tie just as Sirius did, the silver and green shimmering slightly as he glanced down at it, then back up at Sirius in the red and gold version. There was a moment in which Sirius thought Regulus might be offended, but then he laughed, and Sirius chuckled, and the tension between them lifted.

“At least mine doesn’t clash with the overwhelming décor of the house,” Regulus teased softly, and Sirius felt a sudden rush of affection for the brother who had grown so distant in the last few years.

Regulus tilted his head back slightly to look up at Sirius, who still claimed a couple inches on the younger brother, despite the fact that they were barely a year apart in age. Regulus had always been smaller, slighter than Sirius, and more timid, and quiet. As a result, Sirius had always felt rather protective of the brother who was really only barely his junior. He had never felt that Regulus could really manage to stand up for himself, and had always, whether at home or at school, tried to keep an eye out for his brother.

Even if they avoided each other’s gaze in the halls, or argued over what “duty” really meant “ even if he knew it would have bothered Regulus to know that Sirius threatened Mulciber the day after he saw Mulciber “forcibly suggest” that Regulus hex a Muggle-born between classes, or that Sirius would intentionally try to draw their father’s attention onto himself when he sensed that Regulus was growing uncomfortable with the turn that the Magical torture devices conversation had just taken “ still he felt the need to protect the younger boy. Why Sirius still did these things he was often unsure of, but it was enough for him to know that Regulus sometimes needed taking care of, and that he was usually good at it.

“Wasn’t sure we’d see you this morning,” Regulus went on, his grey eyes holding Sirius’ as his smile faded into questions. “ You’ve been in your room so much…”

Sirius managed a short laugh as he shrugged. “Seems like things are less likely to explode or shatter in this household so long as I’m not around. Figure it’s better for all involved. Besides, it’s not as if anyone really misses me.”

Regulus’ forehead creased slightly, and when he spoke it was so soft that Sirius almost missed it. “Why’re you so sure that’s true?”

They had gotten too used to not being around each other, Sirius realized suddenly, so that they no longer knew how to tell each things even when they stood face to face. He took a deep breath. “Regulus “ ”

The door to Regulus’ bedroom, having stood halfway ajar throughout their conversation, suddenly opened the rest of the way to reveal a tall, slim, angular figure draped in dark robes and standing very straight and stiff.

Sirius broke off abruptly, surprised by the appearance, and Regulus turned back to face the doorway. Staring at the back of his brother’s head of glossy dark hair, Sirius sensed Regulus moving away from him again, and couldn’t help but feel that he’d missed his chance, again.

Bellatrix moved slowly forward, her black eyes glimmering as she gazed intently first at one brother, then the other. She reached Regulus first, and spoke his name, and Sirius watched Regulus draw himself straighter ever so slightly, lifting his chin and squaring his shoulders. When he turned back to Sirius, there was distance between them again, and he did not speak but moved away, stepping past Bellatrix and then down the stairs, towards the main floors of the house where the rest of the family was beginning to gather, their voices resonating through the large house to where Sirius now stood alone with Bellatrix outside the open door of his brother’s bedroom that still bore the childish sign forbidding entry to intruders. He could only wonder.

Bellatrix had now fixed her eyes on Sirius, but still said nothing to him. He watched her warily, wondering what the look on her face meant, though he could tell it was nothing good.

She advanced deliberately at last, stretching out a pale hand with long, pointed fingernails. She was exactly the same height as he, and her movements were catlike, graceful and threatening all at once. Sirius had to will himself not to flinch as she drew nearer, much too near, and finally grasped his tie, using it to draw his face close to hers.

“Are you ready?” Her voice was both soft and rough, and her lips were curled in a smirk that still could not mar her beautiful face. Her eyes were pools of darkness, and Sirius found he could not look away from the image of his own eyes reflected in hers.

“Ready for anything,” he replied, decisively, watching her watching him. He kept his expression carefully guarded, his back straight. He refused to step backwards; he would not be the one to back down.

Her breath was oddly cool as it drifted across his face. He wasn’t aware that he was breathing faster than normal until he noticed that she was as well. Black hair floated around the periphery of his vision, and he wasn’t sure if it was his own or hers, she was so close. She leaned in even farther, until her cheek was next to his, just barely not touching, and her lips brushed his ear as she whispered.

“Careful, little one. You play a dangerous game.”

“Do I?” Sirius breathed. Black hair was all around him, her angular shoulder was digging into his chest, it was getting harder to breath, though it was possible that had to do with her vicelike grip on his tie, or possibly not.

Neither of them moved for what seemed like eternity, until the utter stillness was shattered by a shout from below.

“Bella!” It was Regulus. “Are you coming?”

She drew back slowly, releasing his tie as she went, wiping her fingers against each other as if she had touched something dirty. Her eyes never left his face as she said with an air of finality, “Every game I play is dangerous, but this one I don’t play alone. Choose wrongly, and suffer. Consider yourself warned.”

She withdrew down the stairs, leaving him with no choice but to follow, though he did so without hurry, suppressing a shudder as he went.
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