463Dedication:
Dear noneofmyshipssail,
Sometimes I feel like I write this story only for you, to hear what you think. I wanted to give you something much much better than this as your birthday present (I mean one made of my own hands, not just bought), but at the end of the day, this is all I could do. You know your real gift will be ready when you're seventy and I'm sixty-nine, but that's incentive for both of us to live that long, right?
You have no idea how much you mean to me. College (and life, in general) would be unbearable without you, and I literally can't spend a day without talking to you. When I see something remotely interesting, you're the first person I wish to share it with. When I see something pumpkin spice related, I can only think about you. And when I see cheese, it's you that I can think of. (This is a compliment, even though you use it in a self-deprecating manner.)
I have the weirdest feeling this sounds like a love letter, but if it comes across that way, let it do so. Because love between friends is one of only forms of love I believe in, apart from familial love, and I'm so grateful that you're just there in my life. You're an incredible person and you're just so colourful and vivacious. You're pretty awesome and you're one of my best friends. (I don't think I've told you that before.)
I'm a quitter, and I don't do long term commitments, but one thing I can be very very sure of is that our friendship is one that'll withstand time. We'll grow up a little more, earn some money, watch musicals at Broadway and West End, go to a Panic! concert, eat at a Michelin star restaurant, try some summer course at Cordon Bleu, successfully meet TH (you'll be the wing-woman) and be nasty to Skeleton's and Creep's kids (or maybe we'll be awesome godmothers, but whatever.) And also, remember, you're my designated cab-booker for when I ditch my hypothetical groom, so remember to keep your phone charged for then. Also, eventually, we'll adopt a couple of crocodiles just because we can. Talking real long-term, let's check into the same old-age home, so we can stalk a much older SU and judge all the other judgies together. Also, let's make the world record for a Snapstreak, okay?
How does that sound? Want to add anything to the list?
Anyway, as to your gift, let's just say it's bigger on the inside. It's so hard to write it, because I want it to be my very best. I want to put in my best for you. I love you. Thank you for being my friend. You've saved me in more ways than one.
Love,
gr8rockstarrox
P.S. Super belated happy birthday (even if this is more of a perfunctory greeting.)
...
Warnings: Hot off the metaphorical typewriter, hence unedited.
Pairings: Sirius/Fem!Harry.
Disclaimer: What little I actually own has been financed by my parents. I really own nothing.
§
THREADS OF TIME
Chapter 13
"Revenge is like a rolling stone, which, when a man hath forced up a hill, will return upon him with a greater violence, and break those bones whose sinews gave it motion."
~ Jeremy Taylor ~
The house that Bella had seen, bathed in the light of the moon just beginning to wane, haunts her. When she closes her eyes, it's all she sees. If she puts pencil to paper, it's all she can draw.
Conveniently for Helen, and inconveniently for Bella, the former has disappeared without a word, and Twigsy and the others seem to be under strict orders not to divulge the Elemental's whereabouts, which frustrates Bella to no end.
But Bella is curious. She knows she has to make her way back to that house she saw; the need to explore runs in her blood. After all, she's a Gryffindor by blood.
And right now, with Sirius at his job, Remus catching up on sleep, Twigsy studiously avoiding her and Harry taking a nap, she's bored beyond measure. Her legs are literally twitching from her trying to sit in the same place – or maybe it's withdrawal from not drinking and relying on Re-Vitalix?
"Is madam all right?" comes the polite voice of Rafal, and Bella smiles at him grimly.
"Yes, yes I am. Could you get me a compass?"
"The instrument to draw circles or to point out directions?" he asks, thorough as ever, and Bella tries not to smile at it. Hermione would have liked Rafal, she thinks.
"Directions, Rafal. I'm going out for a walk in the woods and don't want to get lost."
"Right, madam," he tells her, bowing ridiculously low, before hurrying away.
Less than fifteen minutes later, she knots a scarf around her neck, having just taken out one of Sirius' leather jackets from the coat rack, and leaves the warmth of the house quietly.
She vaguely remembers Helen telling her something about the woods, but she disregards that nagging thought and walks out anyway.
OoOoO
This is it, Bella thinks, as she rubs her gloved hands onto her eyes. There's a cold breeze blowing right into her face, which makes the parts of her face which are exposed sting. She was wrong to have thought that she could venture out without a warming spell.
But it's necessary that she have no magic on her, so she grits her teeth and walks forward.
What if Harry has woken up? Would the monitoring charm she's placed on his crib let Twigsy know he's up? Maybe she should head back.
She shakes her head and proceeds to take one more step forward, closer to the frozen brook that flows past the front of the building, separating the land into two.
Bella remembers that she hasn't contacted Molly Weasley at all – and it's something she wants to do desperately. She wants to pitch her business proposition, and see how the other witch will take it – she just doesn't want the Weasleys to grow up in poverty once again.
She thinks she hears a twig snap somewhere behind her, so she turns around, wary, her wand out.
But there are no fallen twigs, or branches, even near the trees behind her. There's only a blanket of snow, and the only footprints there are hers.
She shakes her head and turns back to proceed towards the house when it strikes her that she should probably contact Snape soon and start the procedure for the creation of Wolfsbane.
For a second, Bella gets the odd feeling that there's some barrier around the house trying to turn her away, not letting her cross the brook, so she grits her teeth and focuses on placing a foot on the solid surface of the brook.
That's the last thing she remembers doing.
OoOoO
"Don't you feel hot, Bells?" asks Hermione.
Bella isn't sure how her friend's here – she's supposed to be dead.
"Uh, where am I?" she asks the bushy haired witch, who's sitting on a rock by the same brook she'd been earlier at – only that it seems to be spring, and the water is gurgling quite loudly as it flows past.
The sun seems to be an hour away from setting, casting the sky in orange and pinkish hues. The light makes Hermione's knee length slip of a white dress look almost golden.
"You're where you need to be, darling."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean exactly what I said," she says, seemingly distracted with what's in her hands – Bella looks down and sees that it's some flowers that she seems to be weaving together.
"Why are you still standing? Come, sit," she says, patting the space on the rock next to her, and Bella warily makes her way there, loosening her scarf and removing her mittens.
"What's that you're making?" she asks Hermione, the whole thing feeling surreal. But Hermione's there, she's really there – Bella can feel the warmth from the other girl's body – proving that she isn't some phantasm.
Or can delusions be convincing enough?
"Do you recognise these flowers, Bells?"
Bella stares at them long and hard, images falling away in her head, till she recognises it – it's the same flowers that Hermione had conjured at Godric's Hollow.
"Y-You put them on my parents' grave," she says, her voice choking.
Hermione looks up, her eyes shining with the wisdom of an old soul – very different from how her eyes had sparkled with curiosity when she was alive – and says, "Do you know what they stand for?"
"N-No."
"When you leave, look up white lilies, and you'll understand," she says, smiling serenely.
Bella takes a deep breath and wipes away the tears falling down her face. Hermione's turned her attention back to the flowers in her hands.
"So you're not telling me?" Bella asks, taking a deep breath.
"Nope," Hermione says, and continues in a way reminiscent of alive-Hermione, "If I tell you, how will you learn?"
Bella starts laughing maniacally at that, because it's funny. It's too funny to be true. After a while though, she falls silent, and watches silently as Hermione stitches the flowers together with a needle and some thread.
"You're close enough to get started, Bella," she says, without looking up.
"What do you mean? I-"
"Shh, don't interrupt me, look, I've ruined the design. But that's all right, I can start over."
'Uh huh."
"Who are you saving this time, Bells? Sirius, Remus, Teddy? Yourself, your baby self? Do you really want to save them?"
"Yes, I want to. So much, Mione, so much. Harry – you haven't met Harry. He's an adorable baby, and I want him to be happy. I love him."
"But have you grown too attached to do what you were meant to do? Have you forgotten your task?" she asks, finally looking up.
"I-I still remember, I just haven't had time to get started."
Hermione doesn't reply, but instead goes back to her work.
"Well, there's no time like the present to get started. And look! I'm done as well!"
"You think I should start hunting Horcruxes right away?" asks Bella a little doubtfully, because she'd been putting the thing off for a reason – she'd wanted to accumulate enough power and influence in this thread so that she could make things move along smoothly.
"I can't be telling you what it is you should be doing, but you've come to the right place Isobel. You've been touched by Death and deemed innocent. That's a gift – use what that gift tells you to find your answers.
"You've already stumbled upon what you need to get started. You've made great progress today. You've done well. But this is a different story. It starts differently and ends differently. It's a new beginning for a new end."
Bella looks closely at the face of her friend, observing how the skin is flawless, and how her eyes are more alive. Her hair shines, and if Hermione is indeed dead, Bella thinks Death offers a hell of a make-over.
"This is for you, by the way," Hermione says, holding the flower ornament up in the light. Bella can recognise what it is now.
"You remember?" she asks softly.
"Of course I do, darling."
The light around them begins to get brighter, and Bella stands up, feeling a tugging at the base of her navel.
"Looks like it's time for you to go. Take this," she says, holding the lilies out.
With a sense of déjà vu, Bella asks, "Is this real? Or is this in my head?" as the ground starts shaking and the very air starts vibrating.
"Of course it's in your head Bells, but that doesn't mean it isn't real, does it?" she says, winking charmingly.
Bella grabs hold of the corsage of white lilies, before embracing the darkness that clouds over her eyes.
"It starts differently, it will end differently," echoes through her head, the voice fading till all she hears is the ringing sound of her own blood in her ears.
OoOoO
When Bella comes to, the first thing she hears is an overly sarcastic voice.
"Look who's back from the dead."
Bella closes her eyes shut tightly, but not before she takes in the familiar ceiling of her room.
"Harry's been worried about you, he kept trying to wake you up," says Sirius seriously, and Bella's eyes snap open.
"What?" she asks, sitting up.
She realises that she's dressed in a flimsy chemise, and even though nothing's revealed, she pulls her blankets up.
"What's going on?"
"You've been out for twenty-seven hours," he says caustically, but there's no fire in his eyes – he looks tired. In fact, he doesn't look like he's changed from his work clothes.
"Maybe I was just asleep," she protests, running her hands over her bare arms to get rid of the goosebumps.
"Twenty-seven hours after Twigsy found you. Merlin knows how long you were out there before – you could have died," he says, sounding partially angry, and Bella is taken aback.
"I have no clue what's going on," she says at long last.
"Are you familiar with hypothermia?' he asks caustically.
"Uh, no?"
"You went out there without any warmth, removed your fucking clothes and half froze to death conjuring flowers. You're lucky Twigsy found you when she did. Remus reckons you wouldn't have retained your fingers if she had dragged your arse back here even a moment later."
"Oh."
He just looks at her, and Bella feels like a small child. Once upon a time, she'd tried to do something foolish, and McGonagall had fixed her with a similar look; it's disappointment.
But wait, how did her clothes come off? Bella feels confused.
"Of course that's all you have to say," he says almost quietly.
"Why are you being so nasty to me? I don't even remember what happened!"
She sinks into the pillows that someone's set up for her, pinned as she is under his withering gaze.
"You take off on me for being irresponsible, but you're the fucking hypocrite – you're reckless and careless," he says, his voice steely.
"I'm not going to apologise for doing something that I don't even remember doing! I don't know how my clothes came off, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't have stepped out of the house at all!"
"And that's the thing isn't it? You never do apologise."
He gets up forcefully, the chair recoiling from him as it hits the chest of drawers and topples.
"Have your fucking flowers," he says, picking up the corsage of lilies from her bedside table and flinging it at her.
It's probably all the Quidditch practice she's had, but she catches it and clutches it to her chest, as he walks out of the room, muttering, "I'll ask Twigsy to get you some food."
OoOoO
Harry is unusually subdued, as Bella sits on the overstuffed settee, watching an episode of A Fine Romance. She's tried cheering him up, to no avail, and has now given up to watch her favourite actress, Judi Dench rule the TV screen.
Bella remembers sneaking out of Grimmauld Place with Sirius to watch GoldenEye, back in her own thread, and wonders wistfully if the Sirius of this thread will be willing to watch the movie with her when it hits the theatres in some fourteen years' time.
"I thought I'd find you here," comes the tired voice of Remus, and Bella turns her head to briefly acknowledge him before turning back to the show.
Remus is nice enough to start talking to her only when there's a commercial break right after Laura is sedated at the dentist's – Bella can't help but appreciate how thoughtful the other man is, as she turns to give him her full attention, adjusting Harry before settling into a more comfortable position.
Harry pinches Bella's thigh and continues scowling.
Remus chuckles at that before starting. "I've been doing some research into these Imprint bonds that people share at times. I'm not sure if my reasoning is right, but apparently, two Imprinted people, once they've made contact with each other, shield one another and rely on the other for magical protection.
"This means you and Harry depend on each other for magical support, and I reckon that when you were unconscious, or whatever it is that happened, Harry either felt vulnerable and open, or felt helpless, not being able to help you – but either way, being just a baby, he's reacting in the best way he knows how."
Bella can finally sort of understand what's been going on with her baby brother for the past few hours.
"So either he's mad at me, or he's mad at himself, right?"
Remus nods, and Bella scratches her head as she stretches her neck. There's a crick that she can't quite get rid of – when she'd complained to Twigsy about it, the house-elf had told her that she deserved it for lacking common sense.
"It should be easy to make-up then, right? If he's mad at himself, all I need to do is make him feel useful, and if it's the protection part, I'll just have to show him that I'll be around, eh?"
"Try reasoning that with a one year old," Remus says, not impolitely, and Bella throws her head back onto the cushion.
Harry pinches her arm, and she tries not to stoop to his level and pinch him back.
OoOoO
Bella smoothens Harry's unruly tuft of hair, and smiles briefly as he turns over in his sleep, clutching his blankie tightly in one scrunched up fist.
.
'Duckie,
I feel so awful, knowing that you've been exploring the woods despite my asking you not to – but it's my fault. I should have guessed that you would be inquisitive.
I'm so sorry I'm not there right now. I'll be home as soon as possible. I love you so much. Take care.
Forever yours,
Helen'
.
Bella reads the letter, feeling conflicted. Helen's the only one who doesn't sound reprimanding. Remus had almost chastised her earlier, before seeing the look on her face and changing the topic. Twigsy and Rafal had ignored her and treated her like a small child the whole day. Harry was still exercising his own brand of 'punishment'.
And Sirius? Bella thinks she just can't catch a break with him. She feels she can label the months she's lived here by the fights she's had with Sirius. And it's tiring.
The only person to whom she means something – the only adult – is Helen, and Bella doesn't know how she feels about Helen. Sometimes she's a friend, and sometimes she feels like a parent – or what a parental figure must be like, and it leaves her confused.
It's a bit disconcerting, she decides, to have someone express affection so openly towards her, when she hasn't witnessed the slow building of said affection. But to be fair, Helen's looked after Bela for three years in the time-pocket – so Bella can't label Helen's affection as creepy.
Bella sighs and adjusts Harry's pillow, before resting back on her own. Her great plan to make Harry feel protected is to maintain physical proximity till their bond stabilises, but Bella isn't sure it's been working out.
Harry had been awfully stubborn and had refused to go to sleep. He'd been an absolute demon, in sharp contrast to the angel he seems right now, and Bella knows she loves him not despite being a brat, but because he is a brat.
She folds the letter once and turns to place it on her bedside table, when the door opens slowly.
Sirius steps in and stares at her, and she stares back as well, because, well, there's nothing else to do. She's charmed bluebell-flames to burn in a mug, acting as a substitute night lamp for Harry, and in the shadows that the lamp casts, Sirius looks just weary.
"We really need to stop meeting like this," he whispers.
"You really need to stop sneaking into my room."
He grins at that, and he doesn't look as tired as he previously did. He looks more like the twenty-two year old he is.
"I see you're making Harry sleep next to you," he says casually, finally moving away from the doorframe and stepping inside.
"Just a theory Remus and I thought we could try."
"I almost had a heart attack when I didn't find him in his crib," Sirius says, stepping forward.
"You should give yourself more credit than that – you're really good at wards, I don't think anyone can simply come inside and take him," she offers, shrugging her shoulders without trying to disturb the alignment of her pillows.
"You're being... polite," he says slowly, voicing what Bella's been thinking as well.
"Only because you are, Sirius."
He lets out a long sigh of breath and awkwardly continues standing in the middle of the room.
"He's beautiful, isn't he?" she asks, taking one of Harry's clenched fists in her comparatively humongous hands, and rubs circles onto it.
Sirius hums in agreement, and she turns her head to look at him.
"Why don't you sit here?" she asks, patting to the rest of the bed on the other side of Harry, wanting to put him out of his misery, as amusing as it is to see him stand cluelessly in the middle of her room.
After sitting down carefully and adjusting Harry's blankie – as if she hadn't done that just earlier – he says gruffly, "Thanks."
"For what?"
"For looking after Harry. For being there. I don't think I could do it by myself."
Bella doesn't reply for a while, thinking out various scenarios, before speaking, "I think you would have been a brilliant godfather, whether I were around or not – you don't give yourself enough credit for anything."
"The product of being brought up in a house where internal validation is seen as morally wrong," he says too quickly, too bitterly, and Bella's placed her free hand on his shoulder before she can think about it. She draws it away just as quickly though.
"I don't know if it counts, but I think you're pretty great in everything you do."
"No, it doesn't."
"It doesn't what?"
"It doesn't count."
"Why not?"
"Because you're just telling that to make me feel better. You're like James that way. You tell me things you think I want to hear just so I won't undervalue myself as James says– used to say."
Sirius goes quiet, and Bella wonders how long it will take for Sirius to completely stop referring to Jams and Lily in the present tense. Because every time he realises it's supposed to be past tense and not present, Bella thinks he loses a bit of him to the dark cloud that hangs around him most days.
"You know, in the other thread, you saw a lot of James in me. Maybe that's just who I am?" she says at long last.
"You're your own person, Isobel. I don't think I've ever met a witch quite like you."
When Bella shakes her head and smiles, he gives her a sidelong grin which makes him look boyish – as boyish as Sirius can ever be, and she feels her heart flutter.
Bella rests her head back onto her pillow and watches the light play across the ceiling in rhythmic patterns, as each individual flame flares up at a different tempo.
"The next time you want to do anything adventurous, just take a friend along, all right? Ask me, and even I'll come along to keep you out of trouble."
Bella nods her head, feeling her eyes droop even as she thinks of Sirius accompanying her everywhere, as a friend. It makes her feel pleasant and warm on the inside, she decides, as she struggles to keep her eyes open for longer.
"Siri?"
"Yeah?"
"Are we friends?"
"I thought we already were," he says reassuringly, and she thinks he takes her free hand in his, but she's too far gone into Morpheus' land to be sure.
OoOoO
When Bella wakes up the next morning, she finds that her duvet's been wrapped tightly around her, as if someone's taken the pain to tuck her in, and she smiles at nothing in particular – these are things she could get used to.
Harry's curled into a ball against her side, and she puts her arm around him, surprised he hasn't woken up yet. He's the early riser, of the entire household.
She watches him as he slowly opens his eyes, rolls around, gets up and pulls her hair, before falling onto a fluffy pillow and feigning sleep.
Bella rolls her eyes at his antics, picking him up despite his many protests, and heads downstairs.
"You know you're a lousy actor, right, Harry?" she asks him in a baby voice.
He bops her on the nose in response.
OoOoO
"Hey," she calls out to Sirius, as he's about to step out of the house.
"Isobel?"
"I have some work at the ministry, mind if I tag along?"
"Ah," he says, understanding colouring his voice. "That's why you're wearing formal robes."
"Eh, I want to be taken seriously."
"Come along," he says, holding out his hand, and Bella tries not to notice how warm his hand is against the small of her back as he guides her to the Apparation point outside the house. She thinks she's blushing, but it could also be because of the cold.
She feels him tap her shoulder with his wand and whirls around.
"What was that!"
"A warming spell," he says calmly, before gripping her arm tightly and Apparating them away, without giving her any warning.
OoOoO
Less than thirty minutes later, she finds herself being taking the lift to the lower-most levels, so that she can talk to a representative from the public liaison office of the DOM.
After all, the entire story concerning a baby Potter started with the prophecy, right? Or did it start with Tom Riddle himself? Either way, Bella thinks it's a good idea to check out the prophecy. She still hasn't checked out what lilies mean, but the prophecy has greater priority over flower meanings.
"I'm Meghan Kendricks, and I'm your assigned representative today. How may I help you?" asks the witch at whose table Bella is sitting, with a lazy drawl.
She's chewing what Bella thinks is gum, and with all those dreadlocks in her hair and her lackadaisical attitude, Bella thinks Meghan Kendricks is not really interested in being there.
"I'm Bella Potter and I'm here to enquire about any prophecies that might have been made?" asks Bella uncertainly, because the other female seems to be paying her no attention.
Bella clears her throat and tries again.
"I'd like to access something from the Department of Mysteries," she says loudly, so much so that the old woman sitting at the neighbouring desk turns around to give her a withering glare.
It takes everything Bella has to not tell that hag to mind her own fucking business.
"Now why would you want to get involved with those buggers?" she says, finally looking up from checking her nails which have been painted an unholy shade of fuchsia.
"There's a prophecy regarding my ward, and as is my right as his guardian, I'd like to be made aware of its contents, and would like to know how I should go about it."
The witch doesn't say anything, before tilting her head to one side and loudly snapping the gum.
"Let me get this straight. The prophecy is not about you, but about someone else. Why bother at all?"
Bella can feel her wand holster sitting on her arm snugly. It would be so easy to hex this representative into oblivion, she thinks, as she pastes on a fake smile.
"Because I love the baby boy who's in my care, and I don't want any harm to come to him," she says simply, figuring the truth would be easier to get across this numpty's thick skull than any diplomatic answers.
"True, true," says the other woman, shaking her head. "It's love which makes the world go 'round, innit? That's what I always tell Guy, but he doesn't think it's love. He thinks it's money and sex. I should leave him because he's useless anyway, but still, I tell him 'No, it's not–'"
A crisp voice cuts across, "You aren't bothering this poor witch about your problems with Guy, are you?"
Bella decides she could kiss the other woman who's saved her from listening to Meghan about her guy Guy. She turns around in the rickety chair to see that it's the blonde from the funeral, the one who'd been with the redheaded man.
"Of course not! You know how professional I am when it comes to this job!" she exclaims, before snapping her gum once again. Once upon a time, Bella had thought there was no one more obnoxious than Lavender Brown. Now, she stands corrected.
"I'm Marlene Prewett," starts the woman brightly, before petering out and just staring at Bella. "Are you Lily's daughter?" she asks softly.
Bella stands up immediately, because the woman's face seems to be crumpling.
"You can call me Bella," she says, reaching out just in case Marlene's about to fall or faint. But Marlene takes hold of Bella's hand unsteadily and shakes it slowly at first, then with vigour.
"Well, Bella," she says after taking in a couple of shaky breaths. "How can the Department of Mysteries help you?"
OoOoO
Bella takes in the sight of the familiar castle with a lurch in her stomach. This was home, she thinks, as she walks up the unpaved path that leads from Hogsmeade to the Hogwarts campus.
"Ms. Potter," greets Professor Dumbledore, opening the gates.
"I didn't expect you to personally open the gates for me, Professor!" she exclaims, rubbing her palms together, pleasantly surprised.
"If you'd like me to sit in my room and undo the wards, I could do that the next time?" he asks, his eyes shining with joviality.
Bella smiles and watches in amusement as his beard flutters in the wind.
"I'm not so heartless as to want to trouble you and your rheumatoid knee, sir," she jokes back, as Dumbledore laughs out loud.
"Ah, those jokes on my age never get old," he says, and Bella shakes her head, taking in the familiar grounds, very sparsely populated by a few Hogwarts students who have nothing better to do inside.
"Professor?"
"Yes, my child?"
"I need to talk to you about the prophecy - the one that Snape heard - the one–"
"Say no more," he says, and instead of leading her into the castle, he leads her past Hagrid's hut towards the greenhouses. The few students they pass by give them curious looks.
"Why aren't we going to your room?" she asks, looking bewildered. But the greenhouse is toasty warm, and at the moment, she has nothing to complain about. Except maybe she might get mud on her formal robes, but what's a little dirt compared to the bureaucracy that she'll have to face with the Ministry to get the entire prophecy?
"I've learnt that certain portraits in my room have an unhealthy interest in anything concerning you and Harry," he says, and Bella rolls her eyes, knowing it's Walburga who's put Phineas Nigellus up to this.
"And we don't want this falling into the wrong ears, do we?" she says, more than asking, seating herself on one of the workbench stools.
Dumbledore copies her pose and sits upon a neighbouring stool.
"I went to the Ministry today," she starts.
"And?"
"And I tried to get the prophecy from the DOM."
"I'm assuming you weren't fruitful?" he asks, his snow-white eyebrows raised.
"Nope. I spoke to Marlene Prewett. She made me fill in a few forms."
"And she informed you about the red-tapism involved?"
Bella nods, grimacing.
"So are you here to ask me to speed up the process, or ask me for the prophecy?"
"I'd like your memory of the incident, that is, assuming, it was to you that Trelawney made the prophecy?"
"Yes," he nods sagely, her expression grave. "It was to me that she made the prophecy, and it was a part of it that Severus Snape, misguided young man that he was, heard."
"Overheard," she corrects him, and he purses his lips at that.
"Ah, technicalities," he says, and Bella is tempted to fling the pot of manure on the worktable next to her onto his stupid shiny purple robes.
"I'll give you the memory," he says, but Bella knows from his tone that he's not done – this is no case of simple giving. He expects something in return.
"I'll give you the memory, Bella, if you keep me in the loop. What you plan to do, why you're here, what it is you are going after."
"What do you mean?" she asks, and he fixes her under his penetrating stare – one that she's been subject to countless times before.
"Riddle made anchors, you told me on the first day. I've been doing some research - correct me if I'm wrong, but there is a chance that these anchors contained pieces of his soul?"
"Yessir," she says at one go, hoping that the lesser she speaks, the faster she'll be out of here with the memories, without having to make any false promises to the wizard.
"My condition is simple – I wish to help, regardless of whether I'm mentioned in the prophecy or not, I wish to be a part of the entire process."
He pauses, and Bella waits with bated breath.
"Sometimes, Bella, I wonder if I could have stopped the monster that Tom was to become if I'd shown him a different path," he says, his eyes distant. But Bella can't help but think about how evil Tom had been in the orphanage, even before meeting Dumbledore.
But she keeps quiet, and lets the Headmaster have his moment of something which seems similar to guilt to her.
"Remember you asked me when we met for tea why I seemed to believe you so readily on Halloween?"
Bella nods in response.
"This will explain things, the moment I saw you, I knew you were touched by Death," he says, his voice soft.
Thus saying, he waves his wand and draws out a silvery strand from his temple into a vial he's conjured slowly. He holds it out to her, but his eyes still have that vacant expression he'd got while talking about Riddle.
"Will you use me as your mentor and seek help from me?" he asks, his voice firm, in sharp contrast to the faraway look in his eyes.
"Of course, sir."
In her hurry to take the vial from him, Bella knocks over a pot of manure when she stands up. She hopes Twigsy will know how to get soil stains out of Acromantula silk.
OoOoO
Bella glares at the folded up newspaper in front of her, as if she can unearth the answers to the crossword if she glares at it long enough.
She's sitting in the cosy living room, with Sirius and Harry, and a raging fire in the fireside to keep her company. She has an eye on the grumpy baby, to ensure he doesn't get too close to the flames, as he plays on the rug with a set of blocks.
It's when she's casting one of these lazy looks around the room that she catches Sirius staring at her.
"What?" she says, taking the sugar quill she's been sucking on to one side of her mouth.
"Nothing?" he asks rather than says, but he continues staring at her, in particular her mouth, and that makes her feel self-conscious in a good way. The warmth is definitely not from the fire, she decides, as she feels her face flushing.
"Sirius?"
"Are you doing the crossword?" he asks without any preamble.
"Uh, yes. Yeah," she replies.
"James used to bite his sugar quill when he was doing the crossword too," he says, his voice hoarse and Bella basks in the little glow that causes – to think that her father, maybe even her real one in her own thread, did something that she does makes her feel pinpricks of joy.
It makes her feel cherished, oddly.
However, that spark she feels inside feels put out when she sees Sirius' face, which looks pained. She thinks she can see unshed tears glistening in the light thrown by the flames.
"Are you crying?" she asks bluntly.
"No," he lies.
She leaves her newspaper on the armchair she's been occupying, and walks to where he's sitting, some seven feet from her.
"Don't cry," she says, putting her arms around his neck as she sits on him and hugs him.
"I'm not," he says again.
"You're not," she concedes, though it's not true – she wipes away some of his tears which have fallen with her thumb, and keeps one hand placed under his chin, the other arm still around his neck.
"I'm not," he repeats, and Bella can't help it – she leans forward and plants a kiss on his nose.
"You're not," she agrees, patronisingly, and she lets him bury his face into the crook of her neck.
She can't help but wonder if she prefers a Sirius who's hurting on the inside or a Sirius who's bitter and angry at rest of the world, because seeing him either way makes her want to destroy everything in her path.
This is love, she thinks.
OoOoO
"Jeoffrey says he wants to go outside," says five year-old Anna to her mother, fixing the older witch with a piercing stare.
"He'll have to wait till tomorrow and go out with you then," says Gina, trying not to lose her temper with her daughter. The village healer had told her that it was typical of young children to have imaginary friends.
At least, this wasn't the first time Anna was talking about Jeoffrey, Gina thinks, with some relief.
"No! He wants to go now. Now!" Anna yells, and the glassware in the kitchen starts shaking. She stamps her foot, and the cupboard doors start rattling.
"That's enough! Go up to bed this instant!" she snaps, finally losing it. She's tired of her daughter trying to use magic to intimidate her.
"You'll regret this," says her daughter, but it's not Anna's voice she hears. It's a deep, grating voice, and it makes Gina's blood run still.
The mug of hot chocolate she's been holding falls from her hands, but she makes no move to clean up the mess.
OoOoO
§
End notes:
(1) Does anyone else remember Elaine Denham from Doc Martin? She was his obnoxious receptionist in the first season. Meghan Kendricks is very loosely based on her.
(2) A Fine Romance is a romantic comedy that aired on ITV in the 1980's which starred Judi Dench. Dame Judi Dench also acted as M in a set of James Bond movies. (Btw, fact-checking required on the ITV part.)
Review responses:
Guest: I didn't write in the bike scene, as you can see, because I felt some things are better when left to imagination. I'm so glad all Bella/Sirius fights have been resolved as of now. They're a tad hard to write. I hope you didn't mind the wait. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing. :)
Isabella: Harri posted quite a few new pictures, did you see? *grins broadly* Yes, I mean, he has to forgive her, right? Only then can they really fall in love. ;) Sometimes, I feel the part that comes before the 'love' is the best part about a love story, though. So maybe I'll just stretch it a little more? Thank you for reading and reviewing! xx
Rachel: Oh God, no. I think it's weird to be in love with the mother and then fall for the daughter. It probably exists out there and I'm not criticising people who've fallen in love that way – love comes in multiple forms – but I know I'll never write a story like that, because it isn't my cup of tea. :3 Thanks for reviewing! :D
heyhey: Thanks! :)
AN:
Writing this chapter was very hard, primarily because most of it was re-written. I lost a lot of work during a system update (which killed me, btw) and I have this lingering feeling that the original was much better. Most of this was written from what I remembered, and at the end of this, all I can say is, it looks nothing like the lost version.
I hope you enjoyed it. I don't want to commit to a date because well, fate is a bitch. But you can expect a new chapter towards the end of November or the first week of December.
Thank you for reading. Do leave a review, each one lights up my day.