Black Loyalty

Everyone knew something had happened. The Hogwarts gossip network was notorious for outpacing light by at least a few kilometers, but in this case, no one even needed to pay attention to the chatter to pick up on it. Something big had happened, something truly terrible, and it was tearing the infamous Marauders apart. Neither James Potter nor Remus Lupin had spoken to Sirius Black in over 48 hours. Not a single word. It was as though he no longer existed for them.

Yet, no one seemed to have any idea of what actually occurred; so she had set out to find the answers. Now, after a week of listening in clandestine corners as the boys argued and the teachers whispered, she had finally pieced the whole story together.

"Perhaps I was wrong about you."

Sirius froze. He still knew her voice intimately, despite his estrangement from the family and their lack of communication since his disowning. She had taken his sorting and subsequent betrayal the worst of them all, for while many things may be said about Bella, few could deny her unwavering loyalty to her family. Turning against your own flesh and blood was such an abhorrent concept to her that she personally considered all familial traitors as the lowest of the low, hardly even human in her mind.

"It's funny how even when you've worked so hard to prove yourself the perfect Gryffindor, abandoned your family, your home, your life, you're still a Black at heart."

His blood was pounding in his veins and he could feel all the frustration and fury of the past week overwhelming him. He spun around on his heel and marched up until he could spit out the words in her face.

"I am nothing like you. Like any of you."

She just grinned, the same malicious, not-all-there, smile she often offered to Mudbloods and blood traitors—all teeth and sadistic intent.

"On the contrary, cousin," and her face darkened, shadowed, as she hissed, "Once a Black, always a Black. You've already proven that quite clearly. After all, what true Gryffindor, what Light wizard would try to trick their rival into being mauled to death by a werewolf?"

She laughed, and there was a familiar thrill down his spine at the predatory, mocking sound. He could hear his heart beating in his eardrums, racing with the fear that roared through him at her laughter and her words.

He licked his lips, nervous, uncertain, terrified, as he whispered hopelessly, "What are you talking about?" When she did not respond at all, but only appeared further amused, he muttered—almost to himself—"It was just a prank. Just harmless fun, nothing more. That's all it was…"

She laughed again, whispering in return, "Do not try and fool me, little Siri," and he cringed as she sing-songed tunelessly, "Poor little Siri, the Black, always a villain, and never the hero, no matter how hard he tries…"

Then her expression hardened, her voice low and harsh, "You are a Black, little Siri. Darkness is in your blood. While your fellows dream up pranks, you plot torture, murder. You will never be one of them. Yet you have chosen them over your family. And for that you will suffer, will never belong, will never be understood or forgiven. And one day I will kill you for your choice." The last was spoken without inflection, without hesitation or uncertainty. It was truth; she knew it, and he knew it.

"As for your half-breed friend, the werewolf…" she trailed off, giggling as he paled. With her eyes hooded, she leaned in ever closer and murmured in his ear, "Your secret is safe with me, little Siri. But remember: you owe me. And one day I will call in this debt and you will answer, for the sake of your friend's safety."

He shuddered helplessly at the feel of her breath caressing his ear, he could practically smell the decay, the Darkness that seeped from her very pores. He closed his eyes, wishing none of this had ever happened; that he had never bothered with bloody Snivellus, because everything was ruined and he knew she was right, right, right, that he owed her for keeping Remus's secret. The secret he had exposed.

Opening his eyes, she was gone, like a whisper or a nightmare that vanished with the dawn. But she was never gone and he had the unsettling feeling in his gut that he had just made a deal with a devil.

Over a decade later, Sirius laughed hoarsely as he and Bella dueled in the dank amphitheatre in the Department of Mysteries. He kept laughing even when he heard her whisper for his ears alone, "Remember your debt, little Siri. It's time to pay up."

He only ceased his hysterical laughter at the very last moment, as he stood and allowed the simple jinx Bella had sent his way to hit and knock him into a fluttering, grey oblivion.

He was a Black. And if there was one thing Blacks understood, it was loyalty.

A/N: I have taken liberties with Bella by making her about 6 or 7 years younger than canon in this, since I want her to be in her 7th year here, while Siri's in 6th. This was actually vaguely inspired by http: // www . fanfiction . net /s / 3268146 / 1/ When_The_Line_Is_Crossed_Its_Time_For_Revenge "When the Line is Crossed, It's Time for Revenge" by . Or at least, I got the idea for this after reading that, and besides she's a fascinating writer. Anyways, hope you enjoyed, and I appreciate any feedback.