AN: I know it's been a long time, and I'm sorry. Life has been very time consuming lately, not to mention I was struggling greatly with this story. Because of this, I would like to thank Hazzelll for helping me get back on my feet with this story; reviews are the best incentive to get me back to writing! Anyways, on to the story: the beginning's a little confusing. Bold is Sirius, Italicized is Bellatrix. I feel like the subject matter is getting darker, so - as a warning – this chapter is quite darker, and future chapters will only be more so for some time (I may have to change the rating). Enjoy!

Insults shouted. A flash of light. A wicked cackle. Enormous pain. The pain was intolerable; it felt like his body was consumed with fire that grew hotter by the second. Would this hurt never end?

Why was there no salvation from this hell? There had to be some escape from the loss, the pain, the anger. She didn't want to feel anymore. It hurt too much to feel, to let her emotions in.

Lightning cracked through the midnight sky.

The light hit something in the corner of the bedroom. She walked over to the small table that had glared at her with the light's reflection. A small knife sat enticingly on the table. She reached out for it, not questioning its presence; it just might work.

The fire burned. He knew it was the end. How could he kid himself into thinking they might care?

She raised the blade into the air. It shimmered brightly in the dark room. How could she kid herself into thinking he might care? She plunged the knife into her flesh, biting back a scream.

The pain had reached its climax; he didn't think he could stand it anymore. He heard someone scream and vaguely registered that it was his own.

Thunder crashed.

Bellatrix gasped in pain as she watched blood flow to the floor. Her blood. She hadn't expected there to be so much. But she had achieved her goal: she no longer felt the pain, she no longer felt anything. It registered somewhere in her brain that she shouldn't be losing so much blood, but she didn't have the strength or the will to stop it. She collapsed against the bed, a quiet, seemingly futile plea for help escaping from her lips. And that's when she blacked out.

With a start, Sirius sat up in bed, gasping for breath after reliving the horrors of torture. He walked over to the window and glanced out to the stormy sky that had woken him. Lightning flashed. It lit up a blood red sky. Sirius blinked. He looked up again, but it was midnight black once more. He shook his head. He must be seeing things due to his lack of restful sleep. He turned back to bed when the lightning flashed once more. He looked into the mirror standing in front of him. It showed him standing there, but the normal darkness of the sky did not surround him. The sky was painted red again. He stared at the reflection in front of him, but the sky refused to return to its usual hue. He chanced a glance around; outside the sky looked normal.

Sirius returned his gaze to the mirror where the sky continued to bleed. He was startled to discover that his image was no longer present in the Potter's majestic mirror. He was now staring into his old bedroom, and to his great surprise, Bellatrix was crumpled on the floor against his bed. He looked closer and saw a pool of blood forming around her.

He took a step back from the image, fear growing in the pit of his stomach. What was happening to him? He didn't know whether or not to believe that the picture in front of him was true. He desperately hoped it wasn't. He gazed back into the mirror only to see himself standing in his bedroom at the Potter's. The sky was normal. Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that Bellatrix really was hurt. He stood in the middle of the room, unsure of what his next course of action should be. Go back to bed and risk the fact that Bella could be seriously injured and alone, or return to his home to check on her and risk his life if anyone saw him there.

And that was when he heard it. His name echoed like a prayer through the room. It was so quiet he thought he was imagining it. But there was no denying whose voice it was. Bellatrix uttered his name as if it was all she had the strength to do. Sirius' mind was made up.

He grabbed his broom and double-checked his pocket to make sure his wand was with him – he didn't want to run into trouble without it. He would need to be quick; he couldn't run the risk of running into any of his family come morning, and likewise, he wouldn't want to answer the Potters' questions as to why he wasn't in bed. It should work, though, assuming he could mend Bellatrix. He still had enough of the night to work with. Standing on the window ledge, he swung his leg across his broom and kicked off into the black sky.

Circling his former home, Sirius thanked all higher beings that his family had not yet changed the building's protective wards. Looking up, he saw the movement of fluttering curtains and knew that the window to his room was open. Soundlessly, Sirius glided his broom through it. He landed with a muted thud and upon touching down, rushed to the side of his heavily bleeding cousin. She was sitting in a pool of her own blood – it shimmered in the light of the moon. He was grateful for her unconsciousness; it would make the process much easier.

"Evanesco," he muttered with a quick flick of his wand, and the blood on the floor disappeared.

Kneeling down, he could see the thin gash that ran along Bellatrix's collar bone. It alarmed him how close the injury was to her heart. He placed his wand at the tip of her wound and, trailing the stick down the cut, softly chanted a series of spells, the cut closing as he went. Years of healing himself from his family and Remus from the moon had allowed him to practice these spells to perfection. The cut would stay sealed, although Bellatrix was sure to have a scar with a gouge as deep as hers. He looked over the injury, admiring his handiwork. He was startled out of his inspection by a shine in his eyes. Looking for the source, he found a slender knife laying on the floor a few feet away, blood on its edge. He had found the weapon. He reached over to the glistening blade and wiped it clean with the edge of his shirt.

Upon looking up again, Sirius noticed the cause of the shine came from the birth of a new day. The first rays of sunlight were reaching over the horizon. The young man swore under his breath; he was running out of time. Quickly he put his arms beneath the girl on the floor and gently lifted her up, his muscles stretching taut as he did so. He walked over to the bed – his bed – and placed her carefully upon it. He pulled a blanket over her and smoothed her dark hair back from the paleness of her face.

He wished so very much that he could just stay here with her. He wanted to protect her from everything, but he knew that neither of them would be safe if he stayed.

Hearing the soft stirrings of a household awakening, Sirius was shaken out of his reverie. It was time to go. He took one more glance at the girl on his bed and then, placing a sweet kiss on her forehead, Sirius grabbed his broom and kicked off the window ledge, bound for the Potter's.

It had never occurred to him to take Bella with.

AN: I hope you enjoyed it! Please, please, don't forget to leave a review; they are extremely helpful in getting me to write more and to improve upon my writing. Please feel free to leave any suggestions (writing-wise or plot-wise). ~Vacare