.i.

(Yet Clare's sharp questions must I shun..)

"Siri. Am I pretty?" she asked.

Sirius looked up from his parchment and saw his cousin. She was wearing the darkest green robes, with many flowing layers. She twirled, and in the light her long hair shimmered, like liquid gold. So pale, so perfect.

Yes, you're very very beautiful.

He shrugged and snorted.

She ripped her robes off and ran away.

The next day she dyed her hair black and always put make up.

.ii.

(Must separate Constance from the nun..)

"Do you actually like being a Gryff – Gryf – Gr…one of them?" she asked.

Sirius turned to his mother, who was sneering in his direction, twirling a lock of her shiny black hair. Her ringed, long fingers wrapped and unwrapped from the cup of tea and he imagined them around his throat.

No. I don't care which house I'm in, as long as you're proud of me.

He raised his chin defiantly and nodded proudly.

The next day she ignored him.

And the day after that.

And the day after that, as well.

.iii.

(Oh! What a tangled web we weave..)

"Have you ever been in love?" he sighed.

Sirius turned from his broom servicing kit and looked at him. He wasn't even looking at him, but brushing his sandy blond hair away from his face and staring at somebody across the lake, a figure with light gold hair, and the rosiest cheeks. He gulped.

Yes, I have. Infact I am in love with the same girl you're in love with. Funny, huh?

"Nah. Love isn't for me."

The next day Remus asked her to study together in the library.

And he came back looking flushed and the stupidest, shyest little grin on his face.

.iv.

(When first we practise to deceive..)

"Well, what do they make you see, dearest Siri?" she spat.

Sirius' head lolled to the side and he saw her unruly curls through the bars and her eyes half closed, with a stupid smirk on her face. He turned to the bars in front of him, where he could sense them gliding across.

My mother. They make me see my mother and the dead faces of my friends and Remus when he becomes a wolf and they make me forget what it was like to huddle up in bed late at night with a mug of hot chocolate on the nightstand.

"You. They make me see you. The worst thing that happened to me."

She shrieks in maniacal laughter.

The next night he swears he hears her sob, though.

.v.

(A Palmer too! No wonder why..)

"So, how well did you know my mother?" she asks.

Sirius turns from the tapestry and looks at her, clicking her heels and smiling at him, brushing back her locks of brightest pink. Her eyes twinkle with curiosity.

I didn't. I hated her. I loved Bella and Cissy and even Reg, but I hated your mother…always reading and sitting quietly and blaming me when her mother asked her why she was rebelling. I loathed her.

"She was my favorite cousin in this hell hole."

And the next day she invited him for dinner.

He swears it's more awkward than the time in Azkaban when he heard Bella crying.

.vi.

(I felt rebuked beneath his eye..)

"I'm going to kill you," she croons.

Sirius whips around, throwing a spell at her and she dodges. Her eyes are moving in and out of focus and her skin is sallow and sickly and she looks like a skeleton, compared to the healthy, beautiful woman she was and she's shrieking with mirth.

I can see you don't want to, Bella. You don't want to do this. Stop now. I know you're going to kill me, but don't.

"You're not trying hard enough," he laughs.

And she blinks and throws a curse at him.

And he falls through the veil and he swears she was crying again.

.vii.

(Then you will know the truth..)

"Is he dead?" she asks.

Sirius turns around. She's beside him, her feet dipping in the pool and ripped dress now stitched up again and her sallow skin is gone and her unruly braids are shiny again and suddenly, suddenly they're just kids again, Little Siri and his Bella.

Yes, your master is dead and now we all can be happy again. Don't you want to be happy with us again? Me and you and Reggie and then someday Cissy, and maybe, if you insist even Andy can tag along.

"Yes, your master is dead and now –"

(..and the truth will set you free..)

She spits at him and shrieks.

"Liar."

And she runs away.

And he's left looking down at the pool, unable to recognize this stranger.

A/N: The first six lines in bold belong to Sir Walter Scott from the poem Marmion (Canto VI, Stanza XVII) and the last two are John 8:32