Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sirius-fucking beautiful-Black was, by her standards, the biggest idiot in the history of idiots on the face of any planet in any solar system. Not only did he prance about with his equally idiotic friends—except for the misguided Lupin; unless his choice of friends was what made him an idiot as well, in which case he was well suited—causing mischief and grief, but he also did so while acting like some gift from the gods to womankind. Sure he was beautiful, sure he had a lean muscular form that her fingers itched to recreate in bronze, but with that beauty and form came an attitude from hell, and she knew hell better than anyone.

Hell was being stuck sitting next to Black and Potter during Potions where they insisted upon screwing up her concentration with constant jesting, hell was being "partnered" with him on research projects in History of Magic where he left all work to her and only took credit for it later, hell was having to listen to him brag to his mates about his latest conquest during Herbology, and a new level of hell was most definitely serving detention with him.

After HE caused a ruckus in Transfiguration and blamed it on her, which of course she wasn't about to take lying down, and she had retaliated in kind—had actually surprised him with her ferocity in fact—this resulted in McGonagall ordering her to serve a week's worth of detention with the bloody git after class. The woman was pimping them out to whatever professor had the nastiest chore for them to do and they were to complete the task, sans wands-because who could trust a Slytherine and a Gryffindor to serve detention without hexing each other-, and they had two hours time, once a week, to work in, until the week's worth of detention was served.

So here they were, first day of detention, sitting on their arses at opposite ends of the room, scrubbing cauldron after cauldron without the aid of magic. From time to time he shot glares of death at her and she of course did so in return. (The prat deserved more than a glare but she wasn't in the mood for a physical confrontation.) Aside from the occasional grunts of frustration, neither one of them spoke and worked "diligently"; at least until Black decided enough was enough.

Now she watched out of the corner of her eye as he rolled a few cauldrons together and took to treating them like drums, banging out a would-be funky beat had they been anything other than old cauldrons. He was most certainly pounding out pent up frustration and energy; she'd observed him enough over the years to know that he couldn't sit still or focus for too long without doing something impulsive or idiotic-usually it was both at the same time. She sighed and continued cleaning.

"What's going on in here?" The potions professor suddenly bellowed from the door.

She looked up and smiled, "I don't know what you mean." She wasn't about to cover for Black but at the moment she also wasn't fully acknowledging his existence, so as far as she was concerned nothing was going on.

"I heard a ruckus." The professor insisted, glaring from where she sat nearest the door over to Black and back again.

She heard Black chuckle, "Oh that was probably Pervs' gastritis. She can't seem to keep it in these days."

The professor's face greened a bit before clearing up again, "Well, er...um, keep it down in here and finish up quick. I've got better things to do than wait for you two."

Once the professor was good and gone, she turned her wrathful gaze upon Black, "That was great, Black, my image of you is totally blown with your oh so creative cover." She tossed the scrubbie into the cauldron and stood up, mindful to readjust her skirt as she did so. They were usually a bit tight on her hips and any time she sat down the hem would edge up. "And the name is Persephone, not Pervs."

"Can't call someone like you Persephone." He eyed her up and down in with obvious disdain. "She was the goddess of spring and youthful beauty. You're a cow someone drug up from hell."

She didn't show the sting his words always caused. She knew she wasn't the most beautiful of girls at the school. She wasn't tall-had she been tall perhaps the added weight wouldn't be an issue-but at her height the weight in her chest and hips made her look more round than curvy, and her thighs, though muscular, were more like trunks than anything else. She was short and built like an ox like her father, and her hair was always flat against her head. Straw colored and straight, never glossy and full, she couldn't quite say it was the bane of her existence, but it definitely was up there on her list. Her front teeth were on the big side with a slight gap between them, her nose crooked from when her cousin had broken it a few years back during a play fight, and her skin far from flawless, with freckles and scars riddling it. No, the only redeeming factor about her looks was her eyes—even her loving mother admitted that; turquoise and expressive.

"Better a cow than a trollop." She ground out between teeth.

"You're just jealous that no one with eyes in their head would want to shag you." He shuddered at the supposed mental image.

She rolled her eyes, "Fucking Prince Charming aren't you? School would fucking shut down if you weren't here? Oh no Black isn't here."

"Is that some kind of joke Pervs?" his eyes were cruel and mocking.

"Am I laughing?" She was proud that her voice had remained even though inside, her stomach was rolling.

She eyed him a moment longer before she clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth and returned to her cauldron. Black was the type who thrived on attention. She knew just the way to get under his skin. Ignore his pokes, ignore his jibes, ignore his existence, and he'd go nutso. Indeed, it didn't take long before he was close beside her, hovering around like a hawk.

"Sweets," she hated it when he called her that, "you couldn't really ignore me if you tried."

She thought she was doing a pretty damn good job of it actually. He was now sitting next to her, not really cleaning the cauldron that he had placed in front of himself, doing everything in his power, short of physically touching her, to distract and/or get a rise out of her. She wasn't about to give in.

"I like those earrings Pervs, are those real diamonds? Did you work for the money for those earrings? Did your daddy buy those? I bet your daddy bought them? I bet those were a Christmas gift right?"

Her hand stilled on the cauldron for a moment, contemplating how much strength it would take to crack a cauldron into his head, before she shook her head and continued her scrubbing. Black knew quite well that as the half-blood daughter of an unrecognized bastard, though a pure blood, she had no money and barely any connections. Anything nice that she had, had been some sort of hand-me-down from a pitying cousin, always given on the sly.

Black liked to think that he was oh so different from his elitist family and yet he made jibes at her, and Snape, every chance he got. Snape because, well Snape had a talent for making enemies, and her, well because she was a Slytherine like Snape—though not exactly like Snape-and she'd warned the most beautiful girl in the school—her Ravenclaw friend—away from Black, and she didn't take crap from him. She saw the truth behind his antics and deep down she knew he felt threatened by that. He'd had it out for her ever since Peggy had rejected him and told him exactly why, and where she'd gotten her information from—not Peggy's most shining moment in their friendship.

Before he could continue to taunt her she sighed, "We grow up to be just like our parents." She didn't look up from the cauldron she was cleaning but she felt more than saw Black tense at her words. "It's unavoidable."

"I won't; ever." His voice was low, almost a growl, and she knew she'd hit a nerve and she wasn't about to let up.

"Oh really? Then what do you call taunting me for my position and looks? Something a nicely reformed Black would do? You're as elitist and egotistical as the rest of your incestuous family. Any kindness or empathy was bred out of you lot generations ago until all that is left is this?" She looked him up and down with disgust. "A beautiful shell of, pardon my pun, black; all nice and shiny on the outside but rotten on the inside. Shuffling from one prank to another, one conquest to another, all to feel something beyond the shame you feel your connections bring, beyond the disgust you feel when you remember who and what you are and, inevitably, will become. You thrive on the lights popularity brings because you fear what's in the dark; the truth lurking in the shadows eager to consume your sanity." She didn't remember standing up and glaring down at him but here she was, for once staring down her nose at him, and him silently watching her. "But what do you care what I think anyway? I don't even count right? I could disappear forever and it wouldn't make any difference. I may as well not even exist at this school. Remember? Your words, Black, not mine."

His eyes, for once, were clear of any mockery, any mischief, and it seemed that a new light of awareness was shining out of them. Her words had hit home and while his reaction was guarded he was most definitely having a reaction. A moment passed before he stood, slow like a predator, until he again towered over her, his body tense with anger. They were almost chest-to-chest and she could feel the waves of heat radiating off his body and mingling with her own. Something or someone was about to explode, she could feel it in the tingling in the air around them.

"I have just as much kindness and empathy as anyone else, even you." Of all the things she thought he'd say in reaction to her tangent, that was not one of them. "If you even have feelings."

She sneered, "You're pathetic! Don't you ever, ever compare yourself to me ok? You got everything and I got shit."

She turned to sit back down but suddenly his hands seized her arms, holding them against her body like vice grips. She felt a surge of panic rush through her body at the ridiculous idea that he was about to physically harm her, but she fought against it and instead stood her ground and did what she could to relax her body. She didn't want him to know she felt intimidated by his touch, his size, or his intense stare.

She couldn't pinpoint what it was in his stare that had her on edge. There was anger, yes, but she couldn't tell if it was pointed at her or at himself. There was a melancholy—she definitely could recognize melancholy anywhere—and while she took pleasure in the knowledge that she'd put it there, she suddenly realized that the melancholy was probably always present but just well hidden. The longer he stared down at her, the more she began to realize that all that she'd said was not only true but mostly likely exactly what he thought when he looked at himself in the mirror when no one else was around.

She couldn't stop herself now, not when she saw the truth reflecting back at her in one of the most unguarded and honest moments in the history of her "relationship" with Black. Her voice found itself again, and her words tumbled out—for what purpose and from where she suddenly couldn't tell, "When you grow up your heart will die."

She watched as a myriad of emotions played across his face and in his eyes. His grip didn't lesson and she knew she'd have bruises. At some point in the last ten minutes they'd gone from taunting each other to this, whatever the hell this was. Was it her sharing her intimate knowledge of his soul to him? Was it him confirming her observations? Was it a truce? What the hell was this? Why the hell was he still holding her so close and yet not, in a non-aggressive but most certainly nonsexual though intimate way?

"Who really cares?" He whispered finally, his gaze falling for a second before darting back up, a strange vulnerability hovering at the corners of his eyes.

Something curled inside her then, twisted and churned, until she felt a pang in her heart, for Sirius Black. Her fingers unclenched and she now had to fight a strange urge to touch him. A connection had been formed, bond if you will, with the very boy who tormented her, when he remembered she existed. Here he was, slightly vulnerable, reality of his existence exposed as if it were his trousers around his ankles, and she'd exposed it. Over the years they'd found each others buttons, pressed, and reacted and now here they were, wherever HERE was.

She found herself softening, as if her mother's loving spirit had suddenly possessed her instead of her father's icy fire. Her fingers still itched to reach up and touch his face, trace the line of his jaw, the edges of his lips. She felt herself sway slightly, drawn and repelled by his presence in equal measure. She knew if they stayed like this much longer she'd say something stupid, he'd do something stupid, and whatever THIS was would be broken and they'd be back to despising each other in their usually more subtle fashion.

Before she could stop herself, words tumbled out, unexpected and most definitely unwelcome in her opinion, "I care."

~~~~~~

A thrilling week of classes and a weekend spent holed up in the library, studying and preparing for yet another History of Magic project—sans supposed partner Black—passed without much incident beyond the usual frustrations. Whatever the hell had happened between them during that first detention, apparently it had been enough to get him to stay on his side of life and leave her to hers.

He had made no attempt to contact her in classes, had definitely NOT shown up to the library to work on the project together—she hadn't told him to come anyway—and he pretty much continued to prance about the school as dandy-ish as ever. When they did pass in the halls, when he was sure no one was paying attention, he had made some effort to make eye contact, though she couldn't read the emotion or purpose behind his efforts. That was perhaps the only odd thing he'd done since their detention. Aside from that, however, they were still virtual strangers, but ones who seemed well aware of the inner workings of each other.

She'd heard through Peggy that he was currently attempting to get into the knickers of some virginal, Hufflepuff bookworm with the body of a goddess and that he and Potter and Co. were suspected of putting dye in the Slytherine locker showers. Good riddance and have at it. She was too busy with trying to forget how he'd made her feel connected to him, how warm she'd felt, almost in his arms, and how freakishly close they'd been to kissing after she'd confessed—and confused herself—to caring.

If it hadn't been for the sudden return of the snarling potions professor, they might've kissed, she was certain of that. After she'd breathed out, "I care," his eyes had grown heavy lidded and his face had drawn closer to hers, so close, in fact, that if she closed her eyes now and thought about it long enough, she could still feel the warmth of his breath against her cheeks. Full knowledge of his womanizing and impulsive nature had kept her from leaning forward in return; how could she be certain that this was not yet another ruse, another way of pranking—though in reality he'd never actually pranked her, only her house mates.

Despite her curiosity about the feel of his skin beneath hers, the contours of his body, the silkiness of his lips, she'd kept still and so had no reason to stiffen or spring apart when the professor suddenly popped back in. Black did though; he'd leapt away from her as if she'd suddenly turned into fire itself, shock and wariness in his eyes. He'd looked at her as if she'd put a spell on him, and in reality she almost felt that they had perhaps been under some sort of spell, what else could explain just how close and forthright they'd been, once their hostilities had somewhat ceased.

Now it was time for their next detention and Black was late, no surprise there. They were assigned to the flying master this afternoon, apparently with the task of polishing the training brooms and after that, rearranging their storage. She was not a fan of flying—a fact that many teased her mercilessly over, Black one of them—in any sense of the word, but didn't mind the task of cleaning and storing them all that much. They would be working on the edge of the flying field and it was a beautiful afternoon.

"Oi there Pervs!" His voice made her stomach do a strange flip but she refused to look up when she heard his feet draw closer to her side.

"My name is Persephone." She mumbled, not really caring if he heard her or not. She'd already started polishing, having hauled out all of the brooms and piled them in stacks according to size and level. "Choose whatever pile you like and finish it. This one is mine."

She felt his eyes on her but again fought the desire to look up. He seemed to contemplate something before he reached out and took a broom from HER pile. She stopped polishing and finally looked up at his face, nearly growling when she saw a look of triumph flash in his eyes. She bit the inside of her cheek and looked back down. She didn't know if she wanted a repeat of last time; part of her was curious if it could actually repeat but the other part of her desperately didn't want to find out for fear of coming to expect it more and more.

"How come I never see you flying at practice?"

She nearly dropped the broom in surprise. Not even ten minutes of silence had passed and here Black was, attempting to make small talk with her? He was either desperate for more fodder to tease her with, something was up his sleeve, or he actually felt like conversing relatively normal with her—the last option was highly unlikely.

"Because." She finished her broom and gently put it back in its place before reaching for another.

"Because…why?" When asking questions his tone of voice was not much different from that of a toddler, she decided.

"Because that's my business and not yours."

He sighed, "A healthy person is someone who expresses their feelings. Express, not repress."

"In that case, you must be one of the healthiest people in the world." She breathed out, curious if he even heard her.

"You know what happens to people who shut everybody out?" It appeared that he either hadn't heard her or wasn't about to rise to her challenge.

She shrugged, "They lead quiet, peaceful lives?"

"No. They fester." He finished his broom with a flourish and tossed it towards the storage, making her frown.

"Fester?" She turned her frowning gaze from the fallen broom to Black's mock-sympathetic stare. "You think I am festering?"

"Inside." He nodded fervently. "Fester and rot." He paused, probably waiting for her to deny or argue—neither of which she was about to do, because again she didn't exactly what a repeat performance of last detention; that'd been confusing as hell. "I've seen it happen." He continued then, not waiting any longer for her response. "You'll become one of those hunchbacked, lonely old women sitting in the corner of a crowded cafe, mumbling to yourself, 'My ass is twitching. You people make my ass twitch.'" He'd hunched over at the last part and scrunched up his eyes as he did his best Old Lady Pervs impression.

She felt something tug at the corner of her mouth and she realized she'd felt the urge to smile in response to his—was it teasing?—statement. To keep him from seeing this new development, she ducked her head down and retrieved another broom. She let silence fall over them again. He kept pulling brooms from her pile, and she let him. However, it wasn't ten minutes later that he was at it again.

"You know, I am feeling some very strange emotions for me." She did look up then, curious if he was being serious or mocking. Both expressions appeared on his face, most likely at war with each other in his mind, as perhaps he too hadn't figured out if he was being sincere or not.

Against better judgment she prompted him further, "And those would be?"

"Guilt. Remorse. My self-esteem is rock bottom. I'm trying to think, what can I do to show I'm sincere?" Again, both seriousness and mischief were apparent in his gaze and she could not for the life of her figure out if his words were genuine.

"Shut up."

He let out what sounded like a snort at her comment and went back to polishing, appearing to be satisfied—for the moment—with her reply. She too went back to work, trying to keep from trying to understand just what in the heck he was trying to do—even her mind was confusing her now!

"Did you ever think maybe it's not the broom?"

She looked up in genuine confusion. What the hell was he talking about now? He hadn't looked up from his polishing but it was apparent that his question had indeed been directed to her and not just the air around them.

She watched his slender fingers rub the cloth up and down the broom stick—trying to keep her mind off of dirty things—as she asked, "What's not the broom?"

He gestured up into the air, "Maybe it is something else you fear?" He looked up at her then, the mischief still in his eyes but this time coupled with something deeper, something akin to awareness.

"What do you mean?"

"Do I have to say it?" He sounded condescending, his complete focus on her and no longer the broom, his fingers having stilled against the wood.

She scoffed, "Will I be able to stop you?"

"It's obvious it's not the broom you fear." He stood and walked over to the storage and this time properly placed the broom in it, also picking up the one he'd tossed earlier. When he turned to face her again a smirk was gracing his lips, "I know your type."

She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him, "What type is that?"

"You're afraid to live." He stepped into her personal space so suddenly she nearly gave in to the impulse to retreat. She didn't though, and so stared up at his still smirking face. "Really live." He gave a flirtatious wink and she felt her stomach clench.

"Oh Zeus, I don't think I can do this." She rolled her eyes and turned her back on him as she went over to the furthest pile of brooms and focused entirely on choosing the next one to clean.

"Yes!" He followed her, his body just shy touching hers as he too bent down to retrieve a broom—from her pile again. "You are afraid of life. You are afraid of love." He suddenly leaned his head closer and his voice wrapped around her senses, "You are afraid of sex."

The broom dropped from her hands and she whirled on him, fire in her eyes, "That is ridiculous."

"I can tell from your face. The way you dress, with your little white buttons all the way," he dropped a finger down to lightly rest over her sternum before it traced up the row of buttons on her chest to where they stopped at her collar bone. "To here."

"Get away!" She swatted his hand away in annoyance.

"You're the kind of chick in bed who waits under the covers, the light goes off, then, like a rabbit," he held his hands up as if they were clutching sheets, his whole body quivering, his face scrunched up in an ugly grimace.

"What?" She was too shocked by his audacity to do much more than question,"What is the matter with you?"

He dropped his hands, his knowing smirk returning, "You are afraid."

She growled her reply, "You don't know me or anything about me." She'd found her voice, and fire, again.

"Oh I know." He raised an eyebrow at her. "I know that you're afraid of flying. I've seen you. Your every muscle in your body is tense, even the lids of your eyes. Your nostrils are closed up. How do you do that anyway?" He surprised her with his rather accurate description—apparently he paid much more attention to her than she realized. "Me, I love to fly. Especially the moment right before takeoff. The broom between my legs," his voice dropped a bit and his gaze turned warmer, "getting ready to launch. My mind screaming as the pressure is building." He stepped closer again and she found herself rooted to the spot. "Then the force of it slams you flat against the wood." She fought her mind as it began picturing things far from flying, thanks in part to double entendres. "And then... you are in the air. Everything else is behind you. There's only one other place in life where I feel this kind of exhilaration." He seemed to know exactly where he mind had gone, if his smirk was any indication.

She closed her mouth, ashamed to find that at some point in time it'd fallen open slightly. She mentally backpedaled, trying to find something to retaliate with, but failing miserably.

"Look." His hands taking hold of her shoulders and turning her to face the opposite direction brought her outs of her musings. "What a fantastic view." He pointed over her shoulder to the sunset—apparently arguing with him passed the time easily enough, though not very productive in regards to actually achieving stuff.

She didn't feel him step away from where he stood behind her. His hands had dropped from her shoulders but he still stood closer than what she expected, especially from him. She turned her attention to the sunset, inwardly agreeing that it was a fantastic view.

"When you said all that stuff before," her voice was much softer and more vulnerable sounding than she would've like but she spoke anyway, "did you mean it or were you trying to make me angry like usual?" She glanced at him over her shoulder, "Do I look like someone who doesn't know how to have a good time?"

A moment passed during which neither of them spoke and neither really had much emotion on display other than tentative curiosity. She felt that coiling in her stomach again and wondered if he felt it to. Her body wanted to lean back against him, and it wouldn't take much to do so. His eyes traveled down to her lips then back up again and she realized that he was thinking about kissing her. She wondered, if he tried to again, would she stop him?

The moment was broken when the flying master yelled at them to hurry up. They both jerked at the sound of his voice and quickly got back to work, neither one of them really wanting to be late to supper. Neither of them, it appeared, wanted to address whatever the hell had happened, again.

"Express." He suddenly spoke softly from next to her and she glanced up at him, surprised when she saw what looked like the first almost fully genuine smile on his face. "Not repress."

Chapter 3: Third Detention
A lot of the ideas and dialogue in this chapter have been selected from "Sixteen Candles." Again I don't own anything except the OC and the idea behind this. I hope you're enjoying it thus far—even if you aren't let me know how it could be better. The * in the text is an indication of another OC character that is featured in a different story called "The Kisses of Severus Snape" in case you're interested.

Someone, somewhere, hated her. Persephone was sure of that; as sure as she was that detention was going to be worse than normal, once she gained the courage to show up. Currently she was hiding behind a book in one of the darkest, most secluded areas of the library that she could get. She knew Severus was there with Angel somewhere—poor Angel had the most pathetic crush on Severus—but she had made no effort to join them.* She was perfectly content to sit on her own and wallow in her own self pity as she reflected upon her week from hell.

Not only had the week thus far been horrid—her history project had been rejected by the professor when he CORRECTLY declared that it showed no signs of teamwork and that she and Black had to redo it—in part to regular school shit but also in part to Peggy suddenly getting all needy when she declared that she had a (ridiculous) crush on Regulas Black and could she, as Peggy's friend, try and see if Regulas felt anything back—did the girl not have enough of the Black family when Sirius had tried it with her?

Persephone sighed, sending some of her hair wafting about her face. What had truly made the week hell, and the quickly approaching detention ominous, was the stupid note she'd answered in Herbology and the resulting conversation she'd heard Black have with Potter during Potions—surely they knew she could hear everything they said?

She shuddered as she recalled the note. It had been totally uncharacteristic of her to answer Peggy's note—even if the lecture that day had been especially boring and useless—but something had seized her and she'd found herself jotting down answers before she'd realized what she was doing.

"Have you ever touched it?" Persephone had just about choked at the first question Peggy had jotted down. The girl must've been incredibly bored to write such a scandalous note. When she made eye contact with her friend, she found Peggy waggling her eyebrows and making not-so-subtle gestures of encouragement, obviously trying to get her to answer, despite her better judgment. Partially to get Peggy to sit still and stop drawing attention to herself, and partially because she'd been possessed after all—that was the story she was now going to stick to—she'd rolled her eyes and quickly scribbled. Almost.

Her eyes had scanned over various other questions referring to parts of human anatomy and whether or not they had been touched or felt or brushed or kissed, and etc. She'd wasted little time in answering those questions. She'd paused, however, when she came across the question, "Have you ever done it?" Persephone had thought over the various situations she'd been in with the few guys she'd been "intimate" with and had sighed as she'd written, I don't think so.

She'd nearly burst out laughing at the question immediately following. "If you answered, 'I don't think so,' would you do it if you could?" Her friend knew her too well, which as a Slytherine to a Ravenclaw that was saying something. Shaking her head in amusement, she'd answered, I guess so.

"With who would you do it? (Be honest, your name isn't on this so you're okay)" She'd glanced up and had let her eyes fall on every male in her class, mentally checking their names off her list. It wasn't until she'd turned to look over her shoulder that her eyes fell on him. Shockingly, he had been staring right at her and she'd stiffened for a moment before she'd made it look like she was stretching her neck and turned to face the front again, mentally chastising herself for nearly getting caught. Sirius Black. She'd written it before her brain caught up with her, before it registered to her that she'd actually written it, and quickly moved on to the next question before she could contemplate it much further.

"Does he know that you want to do it with him?"Again Persephone had nearly hooted with laughter. She had yet to have a relatively non-hostile/non-weird conversation with him and had only that week given in to the fact that she, despite her better judgment, found him attractive. No! She'd pressed her quill so deeply into the parchment with that word that the tip cracked and she'd muttered a curse to herself, earning glares from her seatmates as her whisper had woken them up.

With a whispered word, and a quick glance at the still droning professor, she'd sent the note back in Peggy's direction. Only it never reached Peggy, as Persephone found out later. When they had scoured the room after class they still couldn't find it and were both resigned to the fact that someone had pilfered it—since Peggy had fallen asleep in the time it'd taken Persephone to write it—and now they could only hope that the thief knew not who authored the note and who'd responded.

Her resignation had turned to icy fear following lunch and during Potions. She'd been seated near enough to Potter and Black—yet again—to hear their not-so-whispered whispers and had nearly gotten her and her partner blown up as she'd listened to the boy's conversation.

"Do you know Persephone?" Black had been idly stirring the cauldron while Potter frantically glanced through their list of ingredients—apparently Lily Evans had lit another fire under his arse and doing well in class was his most recent way of showing he 'cared.'

Potter hadn't bothered to look up, "Slytherine, right?"

"Yeah." At this point Persephone had had to look back to the root she'd been tasked with slicing since she'd very nearly taken off the end of her thumb. "What do you think of her?" She'd heard Black question.

A snort then Potter replied, "I don't."

Persephone's partner had growled at her and so for the following few minutes she hadn't been privy to what was exchanged between the boys but her ears did perk up when she heard Black ask a question that she'd never in her wildest dreams ever expect him to ask.

"Would you ever go with her?" She'd had to look at him then, she hadn't cared if her partner threw some of the potion in her face. When her eyes fell on Black she'd felt her stomach tighten again. At the time, she could only see his profile and thus could not make out all of what his expression might be saying as he'd said the words but from his tone of voice, to her, he'd sounded more curious than mocking—at the moment.

"Depends on how much you paid me." Potter, on the hand, had sounded purely mocking.

Black had smirked at that and glanced down at the cauldron. Persephone had tried not to feel disappointment—why should she feel disappointment that he hadn't stood up for her—and so had looked back down at her work and hadn't seen Black's expression when he'd muttered, "She's not wholly ugly."

Her hands had stilled then and she'd fought the desire to look at him, surprise and anger on her face. Her partner nudged her again and she'd had to tune them out once more in order to keep from getting reported to the professor for her negligence in their work. When she had been able to tune back in she'd glanced up to find Potter leaning close to Black, his arm resting around Black's shoulder's in an almost reassuring manner.

"There's nothin' there, man. It may not be ugly. It's just...void. You know what I mean?"

Void? She was considered void? Even now, sitting in the library, reflecting back upon the conversation that had occurred only hours before, she felt the sting of the description as if hearing it again for the first time. She remembered dropping her knife at that point and had made eye contact with Black as she'd bent to retrieve the knife, doing her best to keep the curiosity and pain from her face. When she'd turned back to her partner and cauldron, and what ended up being a failing assignment, she'd heard Black speak again.

"There's something about her. I catch her looking at me a lot. It's kind of cool, the way she looks at me." What in hell was he talking about, she'd wondered—and still wondered. She looked at him like he was an idiot, like he was a git, like he was a prat. She certainly didn't make doe eyes at him nor did she give him any reason to think that she had gone soft on him—unless one counted the two times they'd almost kissed whilst under some sort of spell detention seemed to cast on them.

Potter's snort had brought her out of her musings, "Maybe she's retarded."

"I'm being serious, okay? She looks at me like she sees…me."

"I see you all the time, Padfoot, does that make me special? Are you going to start wondering about my feelings towards you?" Potter had ruffled Black's hair and moved off to resume gathering ingredients.

She'd wanted to listen longer but at that moment in time her cauldron had started bubbling over and her partner had howled in frustration at her lack of attention and Persephone had had to forget—momentarily—about Black's conversation with Potter. But now she had to face Black in detention. They were working with the owls that afternoon cleaning up their coops and, after having heard the conversation, and lost the note, Persephone would much rather clean the coops by herself than have Black there with her.

With another sigh she stood and replaced her book before making her way towards the exit, not bothering to help Angel and Severus pick up the books they'd dropped doing whatever the hell they'd been doing.* When she got to the coops she found, to her surprise and relief, that Black wasn't there. Perhaps he wouldn't show at all. She began her task with that hope in mind.

"How's it going?" He was suddenly beside her, broom in hand, voice sounding much more chipper than usual—especially given the task they were currently doing.

She tightened her hold on the broom and spoke through clenched teeth, "How's what going?"

"You know," he maneuvered his body to where she had to either stop sweeping or move around him in order to keep going, "things, life, whatnot."

"Life is not whatnot, and it's none of your business." She swiped at his feet with the filthy broom and earned a squeak of protest from him before he moved to the side and let her pass.

"Why do you have to make this so difficult, Pervs?" He practically whined from her side, having fallen into step and pace with her sweeping.

"Couldn't you find someone else to bug?" She stopped sweeping and glared up at him. "I'm sure some of the owls would appreciate the attention actually."

His expression turned mischievous and he took a step closer, "Oh, come on. You know you're the only one I want to bug, right?"

"At this moment in time, probably," she held her broom in front of her like a weapon to fend him off with, "but as soon as I'm out of sight, I'm out of mind, isn't that right?"

She turned her back on him before he could respond and went back to sweeping. She didn't have to wait long before she again felt him sweeping entirely too close to her than was necessary. They worked in silence for a few minutes before she noticed that he was sweeping the filth right back into the areas she'd swept it off of.

"What the hell, Black?" She placed a free hand on her hip while the other tightly gripped the handle of her broom.

He looked up at her, all innocence, "Is there a problem Pervs?"

"You bloody well know that there's a problem! You come in here late, you pester me like always, and now you're purposefully making a mess of what I've already cleaned. What's the deal Black?" She drew herself up to her full height, "And my name is Persephone."

"And my name," he stepped closer, into her personal space, and stared down his nose at her, "Is Sirius."

They glared at each other for a few moments before she sighed and shook her head. The day had gone from bad to worse to weird.

"Fine, Sirius," had she been looking at him properly she might've noticed a shift in his expression when she said his name, "What is the deal?"

He smiled, "Well Persephone," he put extra emphasis on her name and she sighed again, "I was just thinking that when you don't have anything, you don't have anything to lose, right?"

Completely confused as to where he was going or coming from with the statement she could only stare at him a moment before she shrugged and replied, "That's a cheerful thought.

"And when you're given things kind of easily, you don't always appreciate them. Correct?" His expression shifted again and she got that weird feeling in her stomach and the sudden awareness that they were going THERE again, wherever THERE was.

"I guess. What are you driving at Bl-"she bit her tongue and gave him an almost apologetic smile before she amended, "Sirius?"

A moment passed during which, she would later swear, time slowed down. Sirius' eyes changed, somehow growing more heated and predatory, and she found herself unable to stop staring at him. Before she had a chance to question, or protest, he surged forward, his broom clattering to the floor, and had her pinned between his body and the cold pillar behind her, her own broom hitting the ground as well.

Had it been two weeks previous she might've feared for her physical safety but now, with things getting so complicated between them, she feared more for her sanity than anything else. The "thing" between them was not stable, not normal. Normal people didn't insult each other, press each other's buttons until there was an explosion, and then try to form a bond of sorts in the embers of the fire.

He leaned closer and she found it harder to breathe. Either the air had grown thin or his gaze had managed to rob her of her breath. He moved one of his legs to rest between hers, pressing it against her and she gasped. What was happening here? She wanted to protest, to push him away and demand answers to the unvoiced questions, but she found herself rooted to the spot.

One of his hands moved up her arm and traced the line of her jaw before settling on her neck, tipping her head up to meet his gaze. There was no trace of mischief, none of the earlier mocking she was accustomed to, just a raw intensity that she felt herself mirroring.

"I know you want to." He suddenly whispered, leaning down to her ear and pulling the lobe between his teeth.

Warmth shot down to her belly instantly, from his words and actions, and she found herself gripping his shoulders—either in her efforts to fight him off or stay upright she couldn't yet tell.

He bent his head further and kissed her neck, and she tipped her head to the side to allow him better access—what was wrong with her? He lavished hot, lingering kisses all the way down her neck to her shoulder where he gently bit into the muscle. Her knees buckled and his other hand quickly moved down to her hips, holding her more firmly between the pillar and himself.

Her vision was cloudy at best, and her judgment most definitely compromised. How could she stop this—and deep down she knew she should stop it—when it felt so good, so right in its wrongness? Sirius Black had her backed up against a pillar in the owling tower and was most likely giving her a hickey. Yes, she needed to stop this. How had they come to this, from latent enemies to tentative acquaintances to this…what was this anyway?

"Sirius." She hated that his name whispered out of her throat like a needy moan.

He raised his head, his lips never leaving her skin until, at the last second, he pulled away just enough to look into her eyes, "Yes?"

She saw herself in his heated gaze. The need. The want. The confusion. The curiosity. All of it was there staring back at her. She could either give in to whatever he was insisting upon—surely he didn't think they were going to fuck in the owling tower—or she could take a step back and evaluate the proceedings. Of course, an evaluation would result in even more awkwardness and perhaps another sting of rejection but perhaps better that than losing her virginity to the school "man-whore" without any assurance of where they "stood."

"What," she swallowed against another moan when his leg between hers shifted again and she found herself pressed more intimately against his knee, very aware of how aroused he'd made her, "are we doing?" Her voice was weak and yet it still sounded almost like a shout in the tower, in comparison to their panted breaths and beating hearts.

Sirius looked down at her, his eyes glazed with desire, for a few moments before he let out a deep breath and his head fell forward to rest on her shoulder. His hand fell away from her neck, as well as from her hip, but he stayed pressed against her. They breathed together, each gathering their own thoughts, before Sirius took another deep breath and stood to his full height again.

She watched with wariness as various emotions passed over his face—confusion, lust, curiosity, fear, mischief—before a smirk settled upon his lips and he stepped fully away. She opened her mouth to question him but then she felt her blood turn to ice when he suddenly pulled a piece of parchment out of his pocket and began to read the words aloud.

"Have you ever touched it? 'Almost.' Have you ever done it? 'I don't think so.'" He stopped reading but continued speaking, obviously the words memorized by now. "With who would you do it? 'Sirius Black.' Does he know you want to do it with him?" Sirius folded the parchment and placed it back in his pocket. "Yes, I do."

Rage, to a degree she'd never experienced before, rushed through her body at the look of triumph on his face. That, interlude, between them just now had only been a game? He'd been proving another point? Her hands clenched into fists as her vision turned red and then black. She couldn't hear anything above the pounding of her heart. She felt something release inside her, something she'd long held in check without realizing it, and in her mind there was a "click" of something finally sliding into place. In that moment, the true daughter of Hades had finally come to life, and there was certainly going to be hell to pay.

~~~~~~

Once it became known to the rest of the school that Persephone was, in fact, the granddaughter of none other than Hades himself, god of the underworld, she'd been given wide berth. It had taken some smooth talking from her mother, some careful maneuvering from her father, and maybe a nudge or two from her grandfather, to have the "powers that be" of the school to even allow her to continue there. More than a few of the pureblood parents had complained about having a "semi-demi-goddess" attend, stating that her "other-ness" made her as much a threat as if a werewolf were attending. In the end, however, they put her on academic and social probation for the remainder of the school term. Needless to say, she was under close watch and had to keep her shit together if she wanted a more "normal" childhood than growing up in the Underworld with her grandparents.

Sirus had spent most of the weekend in the hospital wing after she'd inadvertently called up the fires of hell—not even an overstatement—as a result of his prank on her in the owling tower. Persephone did feel slightly guilty at the extent of the damage she'd done—she hadn't realized that rage of that intensity could cause her to tap into her previously unknown powers. Black hadn't made any attempts to contact her in the week since the incident, and as they were no longer serving detention together, there was little opportunity for her to approach him to apologize—if she even wanted to.

Peggy was one of the few students who didn't act like a sycophant—like most of the Slytherines now did—or a supposed target—like most of the Hufflepuffs did—or like she was a possible threat—like the Gryffindors did. For Peggy, Persephone was still an odd ball who didn't quite fit into any group and who was not "void" in any way—Peggy had gotten into quite a miff when Persephone had relayed that bit of information to her about why she'd toasted Black's arse—but quite the complicated teenager, much like everyone else at the school.

Persephone kicked a stone in the path. Everyone in her year had been given leave to Hogsmeade and she was to meet Peggy at The Hog's Head by three. She'd waited until most of the others had left before she sauntered out, quite alone. She hadn't been in the mood for conversation—hence the reason for meeting up with Peggy later—and most definitely hadn't been in the mood for being gawked at or gossiped about as if she weren't bloody well standing right there—some idiots at the school really wanted to test her wrath it seemed.

It was a nice enough day out—for autumn in England—and in reality she didn't have much to complain about. She hadn't been kicked out of school—though it was true that she didn't have full control over her powers—and she hadn't been targeted for pranks or shit of any kind either as a result of being a Slytherine or as a result for toasting Black.

At the thought of Black she grimaced, the ghost of his lips caressing her lips, and she swore she could still feel his grip on her hips. Shaking her head to clear it, she nibbled on her lower lip and tried to focus on the path in front of her. Supposedly, as Peggy relayed it—and how Peggy got a hold of the information she wasn't sure she really wanted to know—Black hadn't been truly pranking her in the tower. According to Peggy, who wouldn't reveal her source, Black had only been trying to fulfill her sex quiz—which in Persephone's mind was not much different than a prank.

She looked up and Persephone found herself about to run into a figure —at some point in time she'd started sprinting, probably around the same time that Black's face had popped into her mind. She gave a soft cry of alarm just seconds before her body slammed into his back. Persephone clutched at the figure as they tumbled to the ground. Whoever it was succeeded in twisting in the air and Persephone ended up landing on top of him. They rolled a short distance down the knoll she'd met him on, kicking up leaves and dirt, before slamming into a tree trunk.

Persephone gasped at the pain, but found that the figure, now lying slightly on top of her, had taken the brunt of the impact. Persephone couldn't breathe for a brief moment, and in that moment she assessed her position. She was pinned beneath the figure's body, her legs spread wide with his between her thighs. At sometime in the quick struggle, Persephone's shirt had come up beneath her breasts, revealing her creamy white stomach and the scars that marred the soft skin. The man's head—as she could most definitely tell it was a man now-was cradled between her breasts and one of his hands was resting firmly on her waist while the other cushioned her head.

When Persephone found her breath again she looked down and watched the man's head move in rhythm to her breaths. It was somewhat erotic watching his head rise and fall between her breasts but Persephone didn't know this man and she wasn't about to let a stranger enjoy her generous cleavage.

"Would you mind getting off me you big oaf!" Persephone ground out through clenched teeth, pushing at his shoulders, "I can barely breathe with you on me!" Perhaps she should've been more thankful for his obvious efforts at saving her from harm but at the moment she was too distracted by her near state of undress to care.

Persephone heard a chuckle emit from the man's throat, "It seems to me that your breathing is perfectly normal."

"You would know wouldn't you," Persephone growled as she suddenly thrust her hips upward, catching the man unaware.

With his slight surprise, Persephone grasped the opportunity and quickly changed their positions. Before he could do anything, Persephone rolled him off her and pulled herself into a ball against the tree trunk. She swiped the hair out of her eyes and hugged her knees to her chest, trying to ignore the way her chest suddenly felt cold without his head cradled on it.

Her stomach did a strange flip when the man also moved to sit up.

"Oh shit," Persephone whispered softly.

He leaned forward and pulled a twig from her hair, "What's wrong now? Surely you haven't suddenly discovered that you can't remember who you are from the slight knock you just took."

"Wh-" Persephone couldn't seem to understand why Sirius Black was kneeling less than a foot away, covered in dirt and leaves, smiling mischievously at her.

"Have I rendered you speechless? My how clever am I?" He began to brush as his once clean shirt. "What a reward for saving you from harm. Maybe I'll have to do it more often."

She still could only blink at him. He seemed to be acting without hostility, without fear, almost as if they were, dare she think it, friends. Had the fires fried his brain? He seemed to sense her confusion, and slight fear, when he glanced back at her and caught sight of her perplexed state.

"You don't need to worry that I'll hex you or try to get back at you, Pervs." At the sound of her unfortunate nickname she snapped a bit back to reality. "I'm not a complete idiot to risk getting fried a second time."

"I uh," she tucked her knees to the side and sat a little more openly, "did it uh," she scratched her head and frowned when her fingers latched onto a leaf, "I mean to say that uh," she flicked the leaf away and darted her eyes up to his expectant face, "it wasn't on purpose." She let out the breath she'd been holding and looked down at her lap, frowning again when she noticed just how filthy she'd gotten from their little fall through the woods.

His chuckle startled her, "I realize that Pervs. You're faithful follower told me everything she could, probably in an effort to keep me from doing something to set you off and perhaps, since it's obvious she's pining for me, to save me from getting burned again."

It took her a moment to realize he was talking about Peggy. A few of the evasive moments her friend had displayed earlier in the week suddenly made sense and she made a mental note to both kick and hug Peggy once she saw her at the pub later.

"Why are you being so…so…" she waved a hand in the air between them in her efforts to find the perfect word to describe just what he was being at the moment.

"Jovial, friendly, pleasant, forgiving?" He offered up options and she sighed with a nod. "Well as I was lying in my cot completely bandaged up, wondering if I'd lost my good looks forever, I tried to picture the whole situation from your perspective." She must've made a face because he chuckled again. "Yes, I know, I did something relatively mature. It surprised me to and I can assure you, another moment like that may not come again for some time." She nodded mutely and waited for him to continue. "In any case, while it was exceedingly hard to picture life from a Slytherine's point of view," she rolled her eyes while he nearly winked, "I realized that what occurred in the owling tower could most definitely be perceived as a grand scheme of humiliation. Given my past, as well as my present, tendency to humiliate and prank most of the school's occupants, though I'll remind you now that most of the occupants deserve it on some level, it was entirely possible and probably that you'd think the worst of me for my actions."

She blinked a few times, trying to digest his crisscrossing words, but nodded once it settled. He seemed to have said enough though and merely returned to picking bits of nature off his clothing. She waited a few moments longer before she nudged him with her foot. He looked up, all pretend innocence. She sighed and shook her head; he really did like to be pursued.

"What other startling revelations did you have after that?"

He crossed his arms over his chest and studied her, "Who says I had any revelations? I just said I pictured it from your perspective. That perspective, I'll have you know, is a very dark, relatively wretched, perspective and I pity you." Her face must've betrayed the surge of anger that suddenly shot through her veins. "It is a pity that you have had to put up with my shit for so long; you, who seem to have pinpointed where my shit comes from at a much more accurate rate than even my friends."

"Why are you telling me this?" She still felt that he had an angle of some kind, as he usually did.

Nothing prepared her for what happened next. Sirius made no sound when he moved. One moment Persephone was staring at him in confusion and wariness, the next Sirius's mouth was clamped firmly against hers and his arms pulled her against his body. Persephone only blinked for a moment, trying to let the shock of the sudden change leave her so she could move again.

She pulled back enough to breathe, and speak, "What in the hell Sirius?"

"What, Persephone?" He smiled at her, his hands having clasped together at the small of her back, causing her chest to press against his, her weight nearly all on him due to the awkward angle she was in.

She placed her hands on his shoulders and made a useless move against him, useless because his hold was firm and it seemed she wasn't going to be moving until he wanted her to move. "How do you go from explaining why you aren't pissed that I fried your arse to kissing me again?" She pushed again but when he again didn't budge she sighed and looked down. "Why are you kissing me Sirius? What are you trying to do?"

"Maybe I'm trying to show you I'm sincere." Her head jerked up at his words and she carefully watched a small, almost shy, smile touch his lips. "I know I'm an arse, I know I've shown myself to be a faithless prat, but with you it's different somehow. When I'm with you I feel like there doesn't need to be any filter, I don't need to play any part, and I can just be me. The good, the bad, the ugly, all of it, just me."

"Aren't you like that with your friends?" She couldn't believe she was having this conversation while practically sitting in his lap.

"With my friends we are always trying to prove something to each other, it took a few pointed observations from you to help me realize the whys and hows of that. When I asked them about it, it seemed only Moony really knew what I was talking about. Prongs merely turned it into another jest and that was that." He tugged her closer and she found, surprisingly, that she didn't resist when she was finally settled in his lap.

"So you're kissing me because you have no filter? That makes complete sense."

He smirked, "I'm kissing you because I like you, you daft girl."

Did time stop, were the planets aligned, was she hallucinating in her room? Did Sirius-fucking beautiful—Black really just admit to liking her? He laughed at her gaping and let go of his hands long enough to reach around and push her mouth closed with a finger.

"You like me?" She wished she didn't sound so incredulous. She knew there were perfectly nice qualities about her that someone, of a certain mindset, would appreciate. She didn't have absolutely no confidence in herself as a young woman-Peggy would beat the snot out of her if she were the moping, oh feel sorry for me because I'm not beautiful type.

"Is that really so hard to believe?" At her look he sighed. "Yes, I guess it would be, but it's true. Somewhere along the line you were no longer 'the void of Slytherine,' the girl who skulked on the edge of school society, belonging to no group and trying to draw little attention." She frowned at his words but he continued. "Over the years I've seen moments of fire in you and stitched together with what I've experienced firsthand these past few weeks, I can say that the admiration and fascination I hold for you has completely broadsided me and I like that."

She nibbled on her lower lip, "What are you expecting me to do with all this information? What do you want from me?"

His eyes darted down to her lips and she realized with a jolt in her stomach that he was going to kiss her again. He moved slowly this time, giving her ample amount of time to pull away or turn aside, but she waited for the moment, curiosity and desires a dangerous mixture in her brain.

She shocked herself when his lips finally met hers. While his kiss started out sweet and soft, something clicked in her brain again and when it did, Persephone wrapped her arms around Sirius's neck and pulled herself more fully into his lap, wrapping her legs around his waist. It felt so right, sitting there in his arms, as if she'd finally come home after so many years.

The world blanked out then and all Persephone was aware of was Sirius. His strong arms enclosing around her, crushing her against his firm body; his hand possessively stroking her back and tangling up in her hair; his lips blazing a line down her neck to her pulse. Persephone sighed and pulled his head closer when he licked the skin above her heartbeat, slowly rubbing his teeth against her skin. This felt so very right that Persephone completely forgot the fact that she didn't really know Sirius nor did her know her. Sure they'd connected, of sorts, through their spits and spats, but the knowing of souls that she'd expect in a committed relationship, they did not have. They were from two completely different worlds and Persephone didn't know if there was any chance at all of their being together.

Fueled with a sudden desperation at this thought, Persephone buried her hands in his hair and pulled his head back in order to kiss him. She drove her tongue deep into his mouth, mentally smiling when his tongue just as possessively tangled up with hers. Persephone wrapped her legs tighter around his waist and almost gasped when she felt the bulge of his arousal pressing between her legs. She had never felt anything like this before, never experienced such passion, and she reveled in the cascading emotions in her mind.

Sirius reluctantly dragged his mouth from hers when they both suddenly heard someone approaching. Sirius's arms tightened around her and Persephone opened her eyes and glanced to the side, back towards the path. They were far enough away from the path and deep enough in the brush to be sheltered for the most part, but if whoever was on the path stopped long enough they'd most likely see them. Persephone leaned her head against his and closed her eyes.

They were students heading back towards the school, talking loudly and happily about purchases made in town. They didn't stop in their walking and passed by without incident. Sirius and Persephone both let out the breath they'd been holding. The fiery moment had been broken though and now they could both think again, or at least she could since between the two of them she seemed to be the one with doubts and confusion.

"That was unexpected." He glanced down their bodies to where her legs still remained wrapped around his waist.

She felt a blush erupt on her cheeks as she pulled her legs away and pushed against his chest. Once he moved away, she sat up and then stood up, her hand on the tree for balance. The world continued to tip and jostle around her for a moment or two after standing but now that she wasn't in his arms she could think more clearly.

"A lot of what's happened today so far has been unexpected." She turned and leaned against the tree, staring down at where he continued to sit, his knees drawn up slightly and his arms lightly resting on them. "What are we doing Sirius?"

He watched the emotions on her face, as she knew she wasn't doing a good job of shielding them, before he answered, "You mean am I being serious about this and do I want something serious out of you?"

"Well, frankly, yes. You should know that I'm not one of those girls you usually chase after." He winced at her words but she had never been one to mince words. "I'm not the type to make out here and there, maybe even shag a few times, before moving on to my next great, bedroom adventure."

"Is that really what you think of me?" He wasn't looking at her but she heard the disappointment in his voice.

"Can you really blame me Sirius? You said so yourself, you haven't proven yourself to be the most faithful of individuals in the past so it is certainly very difficult for me to believe that you're being completely upfront with your intentions now."

He stood and brushed the remaining bits of nature from his body, "I don't know what I want, Pervs." Her nickname made her clench her teeth. "You happy now? I hadn't quite thought this all the way through but that's what I'm good at right? Acting without thinking, doing without realizing the consequences?"

Sirius suddenly stopped and faced her. Before Persephone could take another breath, Sirius had her pinned against the tree, his hands braced on either side of her shoulders. His body was dangerously close to hers, his warmth mingling with hers. His eyes blazed down into hers with such intensity that Persephone almost wished she had sunglasses to shield herself. Sirius leaned his head down until their noses touched.

"But can you deny, Persephone, that something is between us? Something exciting, unexpected," he pressed his hips against hers and she bit back the moan of desire she felt rising her throat at his movements, "almost forbidden?"

Persephone didn't have to time to respond. Sirius' mouth was crushed onto hers, branding his taste into her memory. Persephone stood rigid for a mere second before she all but melted into his body. Persephone wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her fingers in his hair. She pulled his body closer, trying to have every part of her body crushed against his. Sirius moved suggestively against her hips, letting her feel his hardness in the junction between her legs. Persephone purred into his mouth and tried once more to get closer.

Suddenly Sirius pulled away, leaving Persephone burning alone against the tree. He stared at her with desire written clearly across his face then his expression changed to one of amusement. He reached forward and flicked her lightly beneath her chin, pushing her mouth closed. He grinned at her before turning on his heel and starting off towards the path again.

Persephone stared after him in both shock and anger. She couldn't believe he had just assaulted her, yes, that was the correct word, and when she responded, left with a smile. Persephone turned her head slowly and watched Sirius swagger away. Her eyes instantly narrowed and her lips curled up in a vicious snarl. Without thinking twice she launched herself at him, catching him around the middle, and tackling him to the ground. They wrestled for a few moments and she was loathed to admit that she didn't mind all that much that he bested her fairly quickly and now sat astride her hips, her arms pinned over her head.

"Are you the one acting without thinking now?" He chuckled against her neck, causing Persephone to shiver and close her eyes.

He felt so warm and good right now that Persephone chose to forget the mean things that he'd ever said to her. She could forgive him anything if this was how he apologized. Suddenly Persephone felt Sirius kiss her skin above her pulse and she again felt like a puddle of mush. His teeth brushed erotically against her neck making Persephone shiver again.

"If this is your apology, remind me to be insulted all the time." Persephone murmured as she buried her face in Sirius's hair.

"Who said this was an apology?" He pulled away. "You should be the one apologizing to me. You're the one who ran into me on the trail, you're the one who just tackled me, and you're definitely the one who burned me. I don't need to apologize."

She blinked up at him and immediately wanted to take back her earlier thoughts of forgiveness. He was insufferable. Before she did something exceedingly stupid, like fry him or kiss him again, she bit the inside of her lip for a reality check and then replied.

"I'll ask you again, what do you want from me?"

Before he could respond they heard a gasp and some muffled laughter from somewhere above. They turned their gazes to the path and found Potter and Co. staring down at them with a mixture of amusement and confusion. Sirius looked back down at her and she knew then that he was about to do something really stupid.

~~~~~

"You can't seriously expect me to go over these lines with you. Not now." She tossed the script back onto the table, watching as it slid across the smooth surface until it was caught up in her friend's hands again. "I've got better things to do with my time."

The script was tossed into her face with surprising force, "If you mean packing your trunk and fleeing like a coward by 'better things' then by all means abandon me in my time of need." Peggy rose from her chair and glared down her nose at Persephone. "This won't take long in any case. Then you can return to your dungeon and finish packing."

Persephone glanced down at the script now clutched in her hands and then back up at her friend's pleading, though peeved, face. She technically didn't have the time to help, but it would only be selfish to leave Peggy now—she was a Slytherine so perhaps the selfishness couldn't be completely faulted—but the glaring fact that neither one of them knew when they'd see one another again once Persephone left made her pause and reconsider.

"How many scenes?" Her voice gave away her crumbling wall of strength and Peggy beamed at the sound of it.

"Just the one." She plopped back down in her chair and began reorganizing the papers the sliding script had disturbed. "I just need you to read the lines aloud so I can time out the lighting and staging correctly. So as you read them try to alter your voice for each character and take natural pauses, you know like you were performing them?"

Persephone sat back down with a nod. She watched as Peggy continued shuffling and reshuffling papers, it would only take longer if she tried to help her friend out or if she tried to hurry her along. Content to wait, Persephone reflected back on Peggy's earlier comment.

Was it cowardly of her to leave? If she wanted to maintain some semblance of sanity, continue to pursue academic success, and not be thrown in prison for murder, it was actually logical to "retreat" from the school. Her voluntary choice to withdraw from the school, of course, had caused quite a stir amongst the students and parents. The pureblooded parents heaved a collective sigh of relief that the possible threat to their darling youngsters was removing itself while the schoolmasters did somewhat try to question her sudden desire to leave.

She hadn't told the whole truth of course, that would be more embarrassing to her than anything else. She'd left out the bit about Black confessing his affection and attraction for her one moment and then in the very next, when confronted by his friends in a telling position, he'd made it look like an elaborate prank and had scoffed at her attempts to wheedle the truth out of him in front of his friends. At that moment, with his eyes saying one thing while his lips said another, his friends holding their stomachs in laughter on the path, she'd decided that enough was bloody well enough.

She hadn't known she'd had the ability to teleport, she'd been raised in the wizarding world and figured one had to be very well trained and etcetera etcetera in order to do so. However, as the rage and humiliation had built inside her, she'd felt a tingling begin in her toes and work its way like burning acid up her legs and into her gut before moving through the rest of her body. At first she'd thought she was about to fry Black again but then, once the acidic feeling reached her brain, she let out a cry and whoosh the world around her changed. One second she'd heard the deafening laughter of Black's friends and the next her grandfather's amused and curious voice, questioning how she'd managed to "poof" onto his kitchen table.

Once she'd returned to Hogwarts, by way of her grandfather's helping "poof," she turned in her request for withdrawal and had set about gathering her things. She'd informed the school master's that her grandfather—having now taken a stronger interest in one of the few descendants of his that carried some of his powers—would supply private tutors in his home. For the remainder of her educational life she would bounce between her parents' home in the wizarding world and her grandparents' in the Underworld. Her retreat was logical and not cowardly.

Her argument against the "coward" comment was that if anyone was a coward it was Black. In private he felt the freedom to say and do things with her that he obviously did not feel in public. Rather than admit to his friends that he fancied her, and he'd been given quite a splendid opportunity to do so in, he'd mocked and ridiculed her more harshly than ever before. It was beneath him, in his friend's eyes, to like a girl such as she, and he was willing to allow his friends' expectations of him to dictate his life.

Persephone was no coward and no one in her family was a coward either; how would it look, then, if she brought home a boy—for he was no man—who was content to acknowledge her in private but disdained her in public? How could she be satisfied with that sort of treatment? Though she knew she had no traditional beauty or social airs, she knew she deserved better than that. What was the use in wasting her youth, and time, on a bastard like Black who couldn't seem to make up his mind if he wanted to be sincere or the devil—no offense to her grandfather of course.

"Act two, scene two?" She questioned once it seemed that Peggy was finally situated. At her friend's nod she glanced back down at the script and frowned. "I can't believe you guys are really staging this pathetic attempt at romance for Muggle Studies. There are so many other, better, plays that accurately depict the passion and pain of love. This drivel is an asinine collection of teenage idiocy and angst."

"I see you're talking about me." Both girls nearly leapt out of their skin when Sirius suddenly appeared by their table, a casual smirk on his lips, his arms crossed over his chest.

It was obvious that he'd been looking for Persephone. The girls had chosen a relatively secluded area in the library in order to work, and gossip, in and thus they both knew that the only way Black could've found them was by a purposeful scouring of the room. He smiled down at them as if nothing, ever, had occurred between himself and Persephone. She was too shocked that he dared to show his face to do much more than blink at him. Peggy, on the other hand, looked ready to stab her quill into his eye socket.

Persephone had been impressed by Peggy's violent support—she'd proven herself almost Slytherine in her suggestions for revenge against the prat—but Persephone had felt the need to divert her friend's wrath. She understood that once she left, Peggy would be bereft of the only truly sane student in the school—Peggy's statement—and she also understood that once she was gone, the school would be without its only mature rudder—again Peggy's statement—but that didn't mean Peggy had any cause to jeopardize her academic and social life.

Glaring up at Black now, however, Peggy seemed to have forgotten Persephone's earlier cautions. She rose from her chair and braced her hands on the table in front of her, her glare never wavering. "What are YOU doing here?" Persephone had never heard venom drip from her friend's voice and so was just as surprised by the sound of it as Black appeared to be.

"Can I not seek out a friend to chat with?" He recovered from his surprise and merely smiled in the face of Peggy's wrath—perhaps not his smartest idea.

"You have got to be the most egotistical, repulsive, and lousy excuse for a human being. How DARE you waltz over here as if nothing happened. How DARE you even look at her, let alone talk to her. How DARE you act as if you were any better than bacteria." Peggy looked ready to launch herself across the table at Black, her aggressive stance only worsening as she spoke.

"Why are you here Black?" Persephone spoke up before her friend did something regrettable.

Sirius took his surprised, though slightly humbled, gaze off Peggy and turned to Persephone, "I wanted to come and talk to you." Peggy snorted but sat back down. "I wanted to explain what happened."

"You mean you wanted to offer up excuses as to why you were a complete and total fucktard?" Persephone hissed through clenched teeth. "You wanted to try to redeem yourself in my eyes after your oh so amazing display of independent thinking the other day?"

Black closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, "Maybe," he opened his eyes again and glanced at the table. His eyes recognized the title of the script and he smiled slightly, "Do you want help? This scene requires two."

Peggy snatched the script away from Persephone and all but snarled at Black. Persephone, for her part, wondered why Black would offer to help, knowing that he had an angle. Perhaps she should let him play out his angle, figure out what he was after, and then let him fall on his face. At the moment, for some strange reason, she felt like she had the upper hand in their "relationship." After his "rejection," she'd rejected him with her decision to leave and now he had come crawling after her for some reason. Her curiosity, often the cause of her destruction, got the better of her and she reached out for the script. Peggy eyed her hands but reluctantly handed the now crumpled script back. Peggy was smart enough to trust that Persephone also had an angle.

"You may help. She needs us to read the lines as if we are performing them on stage." He sat down eagerly, like a puppy about to be petted, and scooted his chair closer, all within the time span it took to finish her sentence. She eyed his expectant gaze with wariness but continued. "This will be it though, Black, nothing else. You will read your lines then you will leave. I have nothing civil to say to you."

"If I read, will you at least listen to my reasons?"

Persephone pulled the script back to her chest, "Who are you to set more terms Black? We don't need your help after all. Either you read and leave or you just leave altogether."

Sirius chewed on his lower lip for a moment, obviously debating the pros and cons of giving in, before he nodded and moved closer, as if it were possible, to peer at the script in her hands. She pointed to the beginning of the scene and he nodded, a strange smile on his face.

"He jests at scars that never felt a wound." He made eye contact, his eyes trying to convey deeper meaning. She felt a slight tug somewhere in the vicinity of her heart but she pushed it aside, as she did his gaze. "But, soft!" She felt his foot push against hers and she immediately readjusted her body. "What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon," he glanced over his shoulder at Peggy who had since looked back down at her papers and was now scribbling notes, "who is already sick and pale with grief, that thou, her maid, art far more fair than she. Be not her maid, since she is envious; her vestal livery is but sick and green and none but fools do wear it; cast it off."

Peggy coughed and Sirius paused. She looked up and frowned, "Could you maybe translate it into modern language? I think that might help me, because I keep getting stuck on some of these silly words."

"Can't understand the Bard?" Sirius raised an eyebrow at her friend and Persephone kicked him under the table.

"I can understand him but when I'm trying to take notes on other things while also listening to him it's a bit confusing." Peggy seemed to overlook the implied insult.

Sirius nodded, now rubbing his shin, and looked back down at the script. He studied the words for a few moments before speaking again. "It is my lady, oh, it is my love. Oh, I wish she knew how much I loved her." His foot nudged hers again and again she readjusted her body. "She's talking, and yet she's not saying anything. Her eyes are definitely saying something." He tried to make eye contact but she stubbornly kept her gaze on the script. "I will answer them. Yet, I am too bold; she's not talking to me." He gave a dramatic pause and shifted in his chair, obviously shifting closer, before continuing. "What if her eyes were in the sky and the stars were in her head? Oh, the brightness of her cheeks would outshine the stars the way the sun outshines a lamp. If her eyes were in the night sky, they would shine so brightly through space that birds would start singing, thinking her light was the light of day. Look how she leans her hand on her cheek. Oh, I wish I was the glove on that hand so that I could touch that cheek."

She stiffened when she felt his knuckles brush against her cheek but to keep Peggy from getting upset again she read her line, "Oh my." What a dull line after all the drivel from before.

"She speaks. Oh, speak again, bright angel." He chuckled, "You know I always died laughing at this part. It's so-" Peggy coughed and glared and Sirius shrugged before continuing, "You are as glorious as an angel tonight. You shine above me, like a winged messenger from heaven who makes mortal men fall on their backs to look up at the sky, watching the angel walking on the clouds and sailing on the air."

She felt his hand brush over the nape of her neck and goosebumps rose up on her arms in response. She shifted in her chair, either to get closer or further away she wasn't quite sure yet, and responded, "Oh, Romeo, Romeo, why do you have to be Romeo? Forget your father and change your name. Or else, if you won't change your name, just swear you love me and I'll stop being a Capulet."

"Should I listen some more?" His voice changed and she knew he was getting into character as he leaned forward, closer to her ear. "Or should I speak now?"

Peggy didn't seem to notice the change and kept making notes on her parchment. Persephone figured, why the hell not, and so she allowed herself to relax enough to slip into character as well. If Sirius felt the need to apologize, or criticize, or whatever the hell he wanted to do with her at the moment, and if he felt the need to do it through acting like someone else, well she'd let him. Why? Because she was too curious for her own damn good.

"It's only your name that's my enemy." In fact, Black, it's you yourself and your damn friends. "You'd still be yourself even if you stopped being a Montague." If you stopped being a moron you'd still be Sirius; but perhaps Sirius meant moron. "What's a Montague anyway? It isn't a hand, a foot, an arm, a face, or any other part of a man." You're more than your friends, Sirius, you're more than your family. Why can't you see that? "Oh, be some other name! What does a name mean? The thing we call a rose would smell just as sweet if we called it by any other name. Romeo would be just as perfect even if he wasn't called Romeo." Do you think I fell in lo-like with you because of who you're connected to? You're an idiot if you think so! "Romeo, lose your name. Trade in your name—which really has nothing to do with you—and take all of me in exchange." Is that too much to ask, Sirius?

"I trust your words." Sirius stood from his chair and moved around her chair to kneel by her side. Peggy noticed the moment but shrugged and went back to writing. Persephone was thankful that her friend trusted her more than she trusted herself. "Just call me your love, and I will take a new name. From now on I will never be Romeo again." He took her hand and kissed the back of it, his eyes seemingly matching his words. Either he was a very good actor or he was speaking much more beyond the words just as she had been.

"Who are you?" She really didn't know anymore. Who, or what, was Sirius Black? Who was he to her, who was he to the rest of the world? Could he be trusted or she should continue on her course of tossing him aside, no matter who he was. "Why do you hide in the darkness and listen to my private thoughts?" Why do you continue to torment me?

"I don't know how to tell you who I am by telling you a name. I hate my name, dear saint, because my name is your enemy. If I had it written down, I would tear up the paper." He tugged on her hand just as he used his other hand to push her chair back until her body faced his kneeling one, her back to Peggy now.

"I haven't heard you say a hundred words yet, but I recognize the sound of your voice. Aren't you Romeo? And aren't you a Montague?" Even though you're trying to apologize, in a strange way, right now, I know you, Black. You're still too connected to your friends and standing in the school to truly want to be with me.

He kissed the back of her hand again, "I am neither of those if you hate either."

"Tell me, how did you get in here?" She pulled her hand away and folded her arms across her chest. "And why did you come?" She glared at him. "The orchard walls are high, and it's hard to climb over them. If any of my relatives find you here they'll kill you because of who you are." She glanced over her shoulder towards Peggy then back down at Sirius, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, amused at how elements of this scene seemed to fit their current situation.

Siris suddenly stood and dramatically began to pace in front of her, his arms gesturing wildly, "I flew over these walls with the light wings of love. Stone walls can't keep love out. Whatever a man in love can possibly do, his love will make him try to do it. Therefore your relatives are no obstacle." He threw himself at her feet again by the end of his speech, his head in her lap, his hands gripping the arm rests of her chair.

"If they see you, they'll murder you." She was surprised, in fact, that Peggy hadn't stood up and come over with the quill as a weapon yet. But upon quick inspection, Persephone found that her friend was deep into her note taking and was not to be bothered with Sirius' antics.

"Alas, one angry look from you would be worse than twenty of your relatives with swords." He raised his head and peered up at her with the most pathetic expression she'd ever seen cross his face and had to stifle the urge to laugh at it. "Just look at me kindly, and I'm invincible against their hatred."

She raised an eyebrow and couldn't keep the amusement from her voice as she replied, "I'd give anything to keep them from seeing you here." It was partially true because it was a bit counterintuitive to allow Sirius so close to her physically when she was currently trying to push him away emotionally.

"The darkness will hide me from them." He grabbed the cardigan she'd taken off and discarded onto the table and threw it over his head. "And if you don't love me, let them find me here." He threw the cardigan back onto the table with great flourish. "I'd rather they killed me than have to live without your love." He placed his head back in her lap again though his eyes maintained contact.

"Who told you how to get here below my, er, bedroom?" She brushed at his head but he was firmly set to stay in her lap.

"Love showed me the way—the same thing that made me look for you in the first place." He sat up and moved to kneel between her legs, his face coming closer. She felt her heartbeat speed up and she instinctively squeezed her knees but found that they were now on either side of his hips. "Love told me what to do, and I let love borrow my eyes. I'm not a sailor, but if you were across the farthest sea, I would risk everything to gain you." She felt the warmth of his breath on her face and she felt a bit light headed for a moment, memories of all their previous encounters exploding in her brain within the second.

It took her a moment before she could breathe properly and reply, "You can't see my face because it's dark out. Otherwise, you'd see me blushing about the things you've heard me say tonight." Can't you understand that though we have this physical connection I need more than that? "I would be happy to keep up good manners and deny the things I said. But forget about good manners." Do you even know what proper boundaries are, Black? "Do you love me? I know you'll say 'yes,' and I'll believe you. But if you swear you love me, you might turn out to be lying." Her voice dropped a bit at this and he retreated, but not enough to remove his body from hers. "They say Zeus laughs when lovers lie to each other." My grandfather has certainly had more than a few laughs at the thoughts of torture he'd put your through should he ever get a hold of you. "Oh Romeo, if you really love me, say it truly." Is it even possible for you to be sincere about anything? "Or if you think it's too easy and quick to win my heart, I'll frown and play hard-to-get, as long as that will make you try to win me, but otherwise I wouldn't act that way for anything." Can't you see that it's never been a game for me? I'm not like those other trollops you play around with. I need more than a game. "In truth, handsome Montague, I like you too much, so you may think my behavior is loose." I don't kiss and tell; what happened between us is the most intense I've ever felt. I understand its significance but I'm not about to risk my sanity on it. "But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove myself more faithful than girls who act coy and play hard-to-get." You better believe it, you moron! "I should have been more standoffish, I confess, but you overheard me talking about the love in my heart when I didn't know you were there." You found your way past my barriers before I even understood what was happening. "So excuse me, and do not assume that because you made me love you so easily my love isn't serious." I fear I'm the more serious one in this "relationship."

Sirius didn't respond a bit after she spoke and she wondered if he understood the implications of her words. She found herself appreciating the Bard's words much more now, with her current situation, than she ever had before. Perhaps the play wasn't as silly as she originally thought it to be. When he did reply he moved away from her and stood, his eyes soft and imploring.

"Lady, I swear by the sacred moon above, the moon that paints the tops of fruit trees with silver—"

"Don't swear by the moon. The moon is always changing. Every month its position in the sky shifts. I don't want you to turn out to be that inconsistent too." What a joke! You have turned out to be the most inconsistent prat ever!

Sirius ran a hand through his already messy hair, "What should I swear by?"

"Don't swear at all." Nothing you say now will convince me anyway. "But if you have to swear, swear by your wonderful self, which is the god I worship like an idol, and then I'll believe you." She wondered if he caught the sarcastic tone she'd layered into her reply.

"If my heart's dear love—" he moved to kneel again but she stood and moved away from her chair before he could get settled.

"Well, don't swear. Although you bring me joy, I can't take joy in this exchange of promises tonight. It's too crazy." Everything that's happened between us has been completely unconventional, and mostly likely unhealthy. "We haven't done enough thinking. It's too sudden. It's too much like lightning, which flashes and then disappears before you can say, 'it's lightning.'" We're both too fierce, too strong. We'd beat each other to a pulp with our affections. "My sweet, good night. Our love, which right now is like a flower bud in the summer air, may turn out to be a beautiful flower by the next time we meet. I hope you enjoy the same sweet peace and rest I feel in my heart." I've made my decision, Black, please understand why I'm doing this and don't make it harder.

He surged to his feet and grabbed her elbows, pulling her dangerously close, his voice barely above a whisper, "Will you leave me, so unsatisfied?" He reached up and trailed a finger along her jaw line.

"What satisfaction," she gulped against the urge to sway further into his arms, "could you possibly have tonight?" She only just realized that neither of them was relying upon the script anymore. Either they'd both memorized enough of the play to know what came next or the words were truly come from within their own hearts now.

"I would be satisfied if we made promises of love to one another." His grip tightened and she had to close her eyes against the fiery look he gave her.

"I pledged my love to you before you asked me to." We are connected, Sirius, whether I like it or not, we are connected. "Yet I wish I could take that promise back," she opened her eyes and felt her heart soften against her own accord, "so I had it to give again."

"You would take it back?" He let go of her elbows but maintained his close proximity. "Why would you do that?"

She hated that her arms now felt cold once he wasn't holding them anymore. "Only to be generous and give it to you once more. But I'm wishing for something I already have. My kindness to you is as limitless as the sea, and my love is as deep. The more love I give you, the more I have. Both loves are infinite." Can't you see the influence we have over each other?

Peggy sneezed and they both jumped in surprise at the sound. She'd completely forgotten why they'd been performing, forgotten that they had been performing, and the reminder of time and place made a chill settle over her heart. Sirius must've sensed the change in her as he retreated a step, his eyes still soft but his jaw tensely set.

"I hear a noise inside. Dear love, goodbye" She moved around him back to the table. "Just a minute, good Nurse. Sweet Montague, be true. Stay here for a moment. I'll come back." She sat back down and picked up the discarded script.

"Oh, blessed, blessed night! Because it's dark out, I'm afraid all this is just a dream, too sweet to be real." Sirius' voice lacked the passion of before but there was most definitely a longing in it that she felt matched her own.

"Three words, dear Romeo, and then it's good night for real." I really am leaving you Sirius, please understand the reasons. "If your intentions as a lover are truly honorable and you want to marry me, send me word tomorrow." If only that statement were true. "I'll send a messenger to you, and you can pass on a message telling me where and when we'll be married. I'll lay all my fortunes at your feet and follow you, my lord, all over the world." Should you ever decide that you can maintain consistency, reach maturity, and are content with your decision, I will most likely be here. "But if you don't have good intentions I beg you to stop trying for me and leave me to my sadness." Please, Sirius, understand this plea! "Tomorrow I'll send the messenger." Tomorrow I'll be well enough away from you to stand life again.

"My soul depends upon your messenger." Sirius sat beside her again, his eyes downcast.

"A thousand times good night." A thousand times goodbye.

Sirius reached over and took her hand and she found herself looking up to meet his eyes, "Leaving you is a thousand times worse than being near you. A lover goes toward his beloved as enthusiastically as a schoolboy leaving his books, but when he leaves his girlfriend, he feels as miserable as the schoolboy on his way to school." Was he trying to tell her he'd miss her? What was the purpose of this?

Before she could respond as was appropriate Peggy let out a little curse. They both looked over at her friend and before Peggy could notice she tugged her hand from Sirius' grip. He didn't let her at first but after a moment of subtle struggle he relinquished her hand and settled both of his on the table.

"What's wrong?" She asked, her voice wavering slightly as emotions of many different calibers warred in her heart.

"I think I need to make sure what I have here is what they want before we go any further. I know we're really close to the end but I think if I go now the professor will still be in the office and I can double check now instead of later. If I wait till later I'll forget; you know how I am." She began to gather up her papers and glanced up at Sirius and Persephone. She eyed Persephone's stricken face then Black's equally drawn one and she shrugged before turning her attention back to her papers. "Thanks for the help Black. While you may be a pissant you do perform and read well. Maybe you should stop prancing around like a dolt and take up acting."

Sirius chuckled darkly, "Who says I'm not acting like a dolt but am really a nice guy?"

"Ha!" Peggy stood, her papers and quill safely tucked away. "That's unlikely. Well, Persephone, you ready? Remember, you've got a lot of packing to do before you leave tomorrow." Persephone could tell Peggy gleaned a bit of pleasure out of reminding Black of reality.

Persephone nodded and stood as well, retrieving her cardigan from the table. Sirius mirrored her movements. He hovered between her and Peggy and the exit for a moment before his shoulders slumped and he stepped aside. She started to move past him, Peggy already turning the corner, before she stopped and turned her head. He looked up, hope obvious in his gaze. She reached out and touched his shoulder but made no move to become more intimate.

"Parting is such sweet sorrow," his eyes grew dark at her words but he maintained eye contact. "Take care of yourself, Black."

She lifted her hand and turned away, mindful of the way her heart fought her body's movements. Before she turned the corner she imagined that she heard him whisper, "Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest." She did not look back to confirm her suspicions though. She walked away from Sirius Black.

~~~~

It only took a moment, most catastrophic and life changing events usually do. One moment she'd been solving a domestic dispute between a two of the more reclusive outlanders—a favor to her grandfather since he'd been sulking now that her grandmother was away visiting relatives—and the next she was on the ground. At first she was only really aware of pain shooting up and down her body, as well as the lack of air in her lungs, but then she'd noticed that there was some sort of mass on her robbing her of mobility and breath. This was not a common occurrence, at least not down here, and she barely refrained from grabbing her wand and zapping to smithereens whatever the mass happened to be.

"-the hell?" she gasped out between pained breaths, her wits finally focusing enough to realize that it was a person on top of her. Now that the pain was receding a bit, she realized that while nothing was broken she would have a number of bruises and perhaps a slight concussion if the pounding in her head was any indication.

"Persephone," Aristotle's face was suddenly close to hers, "there is a man lying on top of you."

She glared at him, "You've yet to amaze me with your insights Aristotle. Instead of pointing out the fucking obvious why don't you get this oaf off me? Is it even breathing?"

"He's in Hell now, my dear," Napoleon chuckled from where he still sat perched on a boulder, his superior vantage point, "I doubt he'd be here if he was still breathing."

"Oh you know what I mean. Is he in complete form or is he going to be a wisp?"Typically speaking if new "tenants," as they were called by herself and her grandfather, arrived in partial form or heavily maimed already, they typically were not able to regain their former selves and instead wandered around like zombies, or "wisps" as her grandfather preferred to call them.

"You'd be so lucky to have another wisp around here wouldn't you. Didn't you use the last one as target practice the other day? And people called me heartless and cruel." Napoleon clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "I'm sure you title of 'resident witch' should be altered by at least one letter."

She growled, pushing at the man and wincing at the pain the movement caused. "Stop being a twit and help me or so help me I'll tell my grandfather that you and Nelson bribed Charon to take you over Styx to check out the nymphs the other day."

Aristotle stepped to the side, a smirk painted on his lips, as Napoleon shot off his rock and over to Persephone's side. It took only a few awkward tugs and pulls before she was able to get out from under the man and roll to the side before Napoleon abruptly dropped him again. As Napoleon began to argue with Aristotle over something trivial, that was somehow related to their current predicament, Persephone raised herself up on her knees and turned back to the man. He was lying face down now; she reached across his body, seized his shoulder and tugged. When he rolled over, his head lolling on the ground close to her leg, she felt her stomach clench. There was something vaguely familiar about his face.

"Are you all right Persephone?" Aristotle paused in his argument when he noticed her sudden stillness.

Persephone leaned closer, her eyes taking in the unshaven face, the shaggy hair, and trailed down the man's neck to his partially exposed chest where she saw the beginnings of tattoos. He had a lean body, just shy of being frail; obviously whoever the man was, he had not been taking great care of himself before his, well, death. There was still a quality about his face, perhaps in his jaw line, that belied a regal state. She was sure that whoever the man was he had both a temper and an ego; though both tended to take a beating down here in Hell.

"Yes I'm fine, I just feel like I may know him." She leaned back on her heels in order to study the rest of his body, her eyes narrowed in concentration.

Napoleon sighed, "A shame then. I'm sure it's always awkward coming across those you knew topside." She heard some shuffling and turned to find Napoleon holding something long and thin. "He must've been holding this when he fell on you." He shrugged before handing it to her.

Her fingers wrapped around the wand, she recognized what it was at least, and she held it closer for study. Just as there was something familiar about the man there was something familiar about the wand. Before she could venture further in her study, however, her knee was grasped and she nearly fell over in surprise. The man was waking up, his chest rising and falling in violent gasps, his whole body tense.

"I suppose one of us should tell him where he is." Aristotle sounded very noncommittal to the idea; for being a supposedly great philosopher he was very evasive about most everything.

The man coughed a few times, rolling over and curling up into the fetal position as he became more and more aware of his surroundings. After a few moments of blinking, coughing, and stretching, his eyes opened and he looked around as he struggled to a semi-sitting position.

"Welcome to Hell." Napoleon bowed his head slightly, with a cocky smile. "I am former emperor Napoleon Bonaparte and that is the once great philosopher Aristotle."

The man, if it was possible, looked more bewildered by Napoleon's statement than by the fact that he was obviously not in the same place he'd been before he'd died. His eyes continued to travel from Napoleon over to Aristotle and finally over to Persephone, who'd continued to kneel relatively close to his side. At the sight of her, however, the man seemed to lose all strength and fell back into the dirt.

"Did he just faint?" Napoleon chuckled. "I at least didn't faint when I first realized where I was."

"That's because you knew exactly where you were going to end up once you died." Aristotle shook his head, "Perhaps we should carry him to some sort of shelter so he can acclimate out of this blazing sun."

Persephone nodded. It wasn't exactly a traditional sun that was currently baking them, making the dirt she'd fallen into cake on her skin, but it was bloody hot whatever it was and she'd be quite happy to get out of it. Everything in Hell was different than what most folks expected, with elements of every myth and legend about Hell being both equally true and untrue. Hell was more a perceptional thing, which had been what Napoleon and Aristotle were arguing about. What made Hell unbearable for one man was entirely different for another. Therefore, while for the three, perhaps four, of them there was a sun overhead, for another wanderer it could be a horrific storm.

Of course her grandfather did have control over the increments of discomfort he made the inhabitants suffer through, those who'd been there longer and had earned some form of "good behavior" had an easier time of it than the newbies. This man, moaning and writhing in their arms, was probably suffering a great deal. Her grandfather usually put new tenants through a series of pain tolerance tests so he could tailor their stay to fit them appropriately. It would not be fair, he defended, for a man with low pain tolerance to suffer less than a man with high pain tolerance, or vice versa. Hell should be equally hellish across the board. She understood the concept, though even after sometime of working with her grandfather, she had yet to see Hell as a required thing for all people.

Pondering just what sort of pain tolerance than man had, and holding his legs under her arms, she had more opportunity to study his face, as it lay cocked awkwardly to the side against Napoleon's chest. She still couldn't put her finger on why she recognized him. He wasn't handsome in the traditional sense but there definitely was something about him that most would call intriguing if not handsome. She had a gut feeling that his voice was most likely like honey. If she concentrated enough she could perhaps hear it deep within her mind...

"Leave him here?" Napoleon's voice interrupted her thoughts and she realized they'd moved under an outcropping. The landscape usually changed every few hours or so, sometimes changing drastically and sometimes only shifting slightly. It usually reflected her grandfather's moods, or his desire to make life interesting for tenants. Today it was rather bland, like a salt flat with various buttes and rock outcroppings dotting the land. Taking her lack of an answer as an affirmative, Napoleon lowered his portion of the man's body to the ground. "I don't suppose you'll be surprised that I now have much more important matters to attend to."

Persephone rolled her eyes, "I didn't expect either of you to stay. I'll be the unfortunate informant, as per usual. You two run along and continue being pains in the asses."

"I have no intention of 'running along' anywhere with this man." Aristotle frowned at the idea and Persephone braced herself for another argument between them.

"If you're going to argue please do it elsewhere." She stood back up from where she'd been kneeling and made shooing motions. "You're starting to annoy me."

Napoleon chuckled, "It IS Hell my dear. Isn't that the nature of the place?"

"Go away." She growled out between her teeth.

After Napoleon and Aristotle sauntered off, arguing, she turned back towards the man. He was still unconscious, for the moment. She took advantage of this and closed her eyes. There was an audible popping sound and she smiled to herself. Being a witch was useful even down in Hell. Of course, she was the only other being in Hell that could still use her magical powers, and come and go at her own whims. She would've just apparated back home to take care of him, but she still wasn't very good at doing that in pairs and was not interested in carrying the man home with her.

She retrieved the basin of water and rag that she'd conjured and went back to sitting beside the man. As she began to clean away the dirt from his face she again retreated into her memories, trying to pinpoint what it was about the man that she recognized. She still ventured out of Hell on occasion, usually to visit Peggy and her "brood", but her own work in the family "business" kept her quite busy for the most part. She hadn't been on a date for over three years, hadn't shagged in even longer. According to Peggy, if she didn't get action soon, her female parts were going to abandon her and find someone else more interesting to live with. The mental image her friend had painted for her was still amusing, though disturbing.

A moan rumbling from the man's throat caught her attention and she quickly set aside both rag and basin and leaned closer. It took a few moments but soon enough clouded with confusion but still bright with "life" hazel eyes stared back into her own. A relatively tense moment passed during which neither of them blinked, obviously both recognizing the other—though she was curious if he actually knew WHY he recognized her and as such had an advantage over her. When he remained staring at her and not moving or speaking after a few moments longer she mentally shrugged and leaned back again.

"You fainted."

SHE was still here, wherever the hell "here" happened to be. Sirius licked his parched lips and gently tensed and relaxed all his muscles, one at a time, to ensure that they were all indeed still there. Satisfied that he hadn't lost something in the fall through the Veil, he turned his attention back to Persephone. It was Persephone, time may have altered her slightly-and he would honestly admit it had been a very good alteration at that-but she still had the same eyes, the same voice. If she was kneeling by his side then surely what-had it truly been Napoleon Bonaparte-had said was true. He was in Hell. She cleared her throat when he didn't immediately respond and he winced. Everything seemed to move slowly, sluggishly, like time had been turned sideways.

"I noticed." His vocal chords strained at being used, as if he hadn't spoken in years. He glanced around himself, taking in the barren landscape, the bright sun-how could there be a sun in Hell-before his eyes rested again on Persephone.

"You also fell on me." She rubbed at her neck and his eyes immediately trailed down her face to her neck and further down the length of her body. She was still not beautiful in the traditional sense but she had definitely grown into her body in such way that the term "attractive" would suit her. When he brought his gaze back up she looked a bit surprised by his obvious studying and he managed a sheepish half smile in response.

"Did Napoleon Bonaparte really introduce me to Aristotle?" He tilted his head to the side. "Did he say I was in Hell?"

Persephone gave him a half smile and a nod, "I'm afraid so. I'm not sure how you entered. Maybe there's a door they haven't told me about. But in any case, you are in Hell, and as such, I'm sure you are becoming more aware of the fact that if you are in Hell you are no longer living and breathing 'up' there."

She was talking to him as if she didn't know him, as if he were a stranger. Was she still THAT angry over his blunder all those years ago? Did she not realize that he was now dead and in Hell of all places? Could she not find it in her heart to forgive him and move on? "I am coming to terms with that fact, yes." He looked away as he started to sit up, fighting against the sudden way his head began to spin. He was trying not to think about never seeing Harry again, never again tasting the joys of freedom; but then again, the last few years of his life had been a type of prison/hell so perhaps the real thing would prove to be better. At least here he had Persephone, and that could prove entertaining. "Is there no way to return?"

"If there were an easy way we wouldn't have very many tenants but I can't lie and say there is absolutely no way of returning." He inwardly winced at her business-like tone of voice. Had her time down here-and was this where she'd gone after leaving the school-really made her so callous to the struggles of new arrivals? "There's the haunting method, but that only lasts for so long before Hades steps in and makes you return." There were more than a few people he'd have fun haunting and so filed that information away for later. "There's the possessing method, but again restricted amount of time, and many times you end up with keeping a piece of the possessed inside you even when you return. Nasty side effect, let me tell you." Well, if he got desperate, he'd be willing to face the side effects if it meant feeling somewhat alive for a brief amount of time again. "If you make nice with the 'big guy' he could grant you a limited amount of time in your own skin topside, but again its only limited, and Hades does not often grant this. In fact, I believe the last time he allowed such a thing was back in the eighteenth century or something like that. So I guess the easy answer is 'limited return only.' Sadly, once you're dead you stay dead." She tilted her head to the side and took a deep breath.

He wondered if she realized how cold she sounded and couldn't stop himself from asking, "Are you always this brusque with newcomers or am I just lucky to have caught you on a good day?"

"Newcomers don't usually land on my head," she narrowed her eyes and for a brief moment he thought he saw a familiar spark in her otherwise slightly dulled eyes, "and I'll admit that after years of 'working' here I have become slightly less attuned to the emotional needs of newcomers. I apologize if by not fawning over your with sympathy over your recent death makes you feel less welcome to your new lot in life but I see no purpose in lamenting what can't change." At his wince her face softened slightly, "But I am sorry if you were not prepared for death and if you left behind loved ones."

A flash of Harry and Remus passed before his mind's eye but he shook his head, "There was no one really."

"I hate to impose on you while you're adjusting to all this," she'd allowed a brief moment of silence to pass before she spoke again, "but there's something vaguely familiar about you. Have we met before?"

His troubled gaze returned to her and his eyes narrowed. So the dullness about her eyes did speak volumes about her memory. She at least acknowledge that she knew him, once, but had to yet to really know him again. He wasn't sure if this was a comfort or a torture to him. "I'm not sure. There's something familiar about you as well." He didn't have the energy to explain their past, not yet. "I didn't know if it was just Hell being hell or if were true." He put a shaking hand to his head. "How long until this headache goes away?"

"I'm afraid you're going to suffer physically for a few days yet. It's the usual adjustment period that Hades puts all the newcomers through. He likes to see what you are made of so he can tailor your stay to your reactions."

"You're not joking?" He managed to ground out between grimaces, the pain increasing.

Persephone pushed lightly on his shoulder and he complied with her motions and laid back down, "I'm afraid not. It's getting close to night now and it's going to get fucking cold. My suggestion is to stay here for tonight and tomorrow I'll take you closer to the interior and we can figure out where you can stay."

He only groaned in response, his body starting to jerk and stiffen from pain. It was comforting to know that she still cursed and was still pushy. Perhaps there was more of the "her" he knew in there just waiting to be found. The pain increased to such a level that if felt like acid was flowing in his veins, at which point all conscious thought fled his mind.

She really did feel bad for newcomers, it wasn't that her heart was made of stone, but there really was nothing she could do about it. As he began to writhe on the ground, she went about readying the area for their stay. She conjured up a fire and a makeshift wall between them and the elements—the wind would soon pick up and howl through the night. She didn't bother with food; the man wouldn't be able to eat anyway, not yet, and she wasn't hungry. As a finishing touch she conjured up a few blankets and pillows.

She was aware of the fact that had she not recognized something about the man she would've left him to his own devices, as she was actually supposed to. But that "thing" about him, that tugged at a dusty part of her mind, kept her from leaving him. Call it curiosity, call it whatever, she had every intention of sticking around until she knew who he was. For a few moments it had seemed as if he had known her but was only biding his time to tell her how he knew of her, or had been merely too overcome with his new lot in "life" to take time out to explain their shared past. In any case, they were acquainted enough for her to want to stay with him.

She tugged him closer to the fire, but not so close that he could roll over into it, and "tucked" him into his blanket and pillow. He only seemed to be semi-aware of her presence and aid—apparently her grandfather was putting him through quite a lot of pain. At first she placed her blankets and pillow across the fire from him but after having to move around the fire to soothe him or cover him again she gave up and decided on settling in beside him. This decision seemed to quiet his movements a bit. While he still moaned and stiffened and tossed in pain, whenever she reached over and ran her fingers across his brow or patted his chest and made soothing sounds, his movements became less violent and his breaths more even. She passed a few hours in this manner until finally sleep began to creep in. Persephone finally fell asleep with the awareness of the man's arm snaking across her chest and his head pillowing against her neck.

She woke before the man. The landscape outside their shelter had changed to somewhat resemble a desert. Persephone shook her head. Hades was probably in a bad mood, again. She'd have to think of something drastic to distract and/or entertain him if she wanted to spare the tenants more of this mind numbing landscape.

With a last glance at the man to make sure he was still soundly sleeping, despite his occasional whimpering from the pain that was still affecting him, Persephone pulled out her own wand and apparated home. She wanted to clean up and change before returning and figuring out who the man was. During the night, flashes of memories had haunted her, staying only long enough for her to get a general feel of them, before they flitted away as if they were blossoms on a breeze.

She'd only stepped out of the shower—her grandfather allowed her to have all the modern appliances and amenities—when her fireplace indicated an incoming floo. She grabbed her bathrobe and approached the hearth. When she saw who the caller was, she decided to flop down on the overstuffed chair nearby.

"Yes?"

"Are you at your grandfather's house?"

Persephone smirked, "Of course I am. Why?"

"It's just so weird being able to call Hell. You know?" Peggy sounded quite chipper for so early in the morning but Persephone didn't mind. "In any case, your location aside, I'm doing my friend duty of checking in and making sure you were still living. It's been entirely too long since you texted me, and I definitely don't hold my breath anymore waiting for a floo call, or a personal visit."

Persephone rolled her eyes, "Sorry, things have gotten a bit crazy down here. Something must be going on topside because we've gotten even more resident applicants than normal for this time of year."

"Do you have any idea how wrong it is to hear you talk about dead people as if they are trying to move into a new apartment?"

"Sorry," Persephone frowned, "I'm so used to just disconnecting from certain aspects of the job. You're actually the second person to comment on that within the past day or so. But it's necessity I guess, in order to continue helping out grandpa and such. A lot of times the grieving process of meeting former friends and acquaintances down here doesn't hit me till I'm topside."

She could hear Peggy sigh on the other end of the line. Peggy had remained a true friend through the years and though she didn't understand Persephone's loyalty to her grandfather and his duty in the balance of life and death, she was still supportive in her own way. The awkwardness of beginning a conversation discussing death rates aside they chit chatted over pleasantries for a few minutes before Persephone finally came to the conclusion that she had nothing to lose in telling Peggy about the mysterious man.

"Last night I slept with a stranger."

"What? Are you crazy? What happened to the relatively sane woman I knew?"

Persephone winced at Peggy's voice, piercing even through the floo, "Would you let me explain exactly what I mean when I say the words 'slept' and 'stranger' before you bust a blood vessel?"

"You damn well better explain because last I checked you weren't some trumped up slut that slept around."

"Still having issues with Brigit I take?" Persephone masked her own internal amusement over Peggy's troubles with her teenage daughter with what she hoped sounded like concern.

"Don't ever have children Persephone. I'm serious. They are the worst curse you could inflict on someone, always nagging and demanding and driving you crazy with their short skirts and slutty makeup!" The last part seemed to have been directed away from the fire as the rest of Peggy's comments had no bearing on their earlier conversation. "That's right young lady, that skirt is entirely too short and no you may not go out looking like a lady of the night. You bet your teenaged arse you're going to have to wash that shit off before you go out tonight."

Persephone winced again. Parenthood had not filtered Peggy's language, not that Persephone was the purest of people and had the right to judge, and neither had it brought out the "mothering" trait all women supposedly possessed.

"Before you run off to skin your daughter," Persephone cut back in over the continued ranting, "can I please tell you-"

"Hell!" Peggy interrupted, "Yes, please do. I need something to distract me from this blood lust."

Persephone took a deep breath and slowly let it out, "Now you're going to have to not interrupt me once I get started or else we're going to be having this conversation in circles for a few hours."

"Shit, Seph, what the hell happened to you last night? You're making me nervous now."

Persephone closed her eyes and she saw it all again, her mouth forming words of explanation though her mind had traveled through time and space. By the time she was done explaining the previous afternoon and evening she could tell Peggy was dying to speak but had thankfully kept silent until Persephone indicated she was done.

"Well? What do you think?" Persephone opened up the floor for Peggy to speak.

"Do you really mean to tell me that you don't remember him?" Her friend sounded strange, a mixture of amazed and sad.

"Yeah I don't remember him. I know he's from the wizarding world but so much of that world has slipped from my mind since I've been down here. You know the side effects of spending excessive amounts of time down here. I only really have full control of my memories when I'm topside. You just happen to stick to my mind because you harass me so much."

"So funny." Peggy paused and Persephone could tell from the way her friend was holding her breath that something was rolling around in her friend's head. "Persephone I know who he is but I don't know if I should tell you."

"Why the hesitation? Was he a big part of my life in the wizarding world? I don't think he would be if I'd forgotten him so completely like it seems I have."

"Well it's not just who he was to you but also who he became after you left. I didn't know that he was dead actually. The last I'd heard, well, let me start at the beginning. Just stop me if it gets to be too much okay?"

Persephone made a noise of assent. Her ears were quickly assaulted with the parts of her memory that had been hidden from her the night before. In addition, however, she was made aware of the sordid and violent life, and apparent death, of one Sirius Black. By the time Peggy ended the floo connection, having had to chase down her slutty daughter again, Persephone's mind was reeling. Parts of what Peggy said made sense and connected with bits and pieces of her brain, and heart, but other parts were very foreign still. She dressed quickly and apparated back to where she'd left him. He still lay near the now cold fire pit, his body covered in a cold sweat. Not bothering with propriety, especially not since he was technically dead now, she closed her eyes and focused her attention on Sirius. It took only a moment or two before her rarely practiced legilimency skills activated and she found herself swimming inside Sirius' fevered mind.

At first she saw the last few moments of his life played over and over again, felt inside her own body the pain and shock that he'd felt before he'd fallen through the Veil—that had been his portal apparently. Growing tired, and disgusted, with reliving this experience, she pushed past it and began sifting through deeper memories and impressions, trying to get to know this virtual stranger at her feet.

There was a flash and suddenly she saw through his eyes a dark room. He was lying on a messy bed and there was a woman beside him. From the feelings she got from this memory there was no romantic connection between them. What had occurred between them had merely been physical. She observed the scene for a moment longer, finding some sort of familiarity in the knowledge that he'd been with another women, and was about to move on when suddenly Sirius got up in the memory and moved to a desk in the room. He pulled out a sheet of paper and Persephone watched as Sirius scribbled out words in barely legible writing.

"For the first time, since you've gone, regretfully lying naked, I reflect on what I've done." He glanced back at the woman and watched her a moment, observing her pale skin and long legs. He turned back to the paper, "Her leg feels like its still forced in between mine, sticking to my skin. Stroking my chest and my hair, head resting below my chin. I'm a fox trapped in the lamp lights and I'm waiting, for the hounds to howl over me. Because everything I love has gone away. The night is moving slower, and sleep won't rescue me. Leaving me here to suffer, this shameful misery. So I long for a taste of freedom, or at least freedom from this bed."

In the memory Sirius looked at the paper a moment longer before he crumpled it in his fist and tossed it in the metal bin beside the desk. Persephone watched as he collected his clothes and left the room, not bothering to wake the sleeping woman.

She moved on then, further back in his mind until she came to a conflicting memory. It was conflicting because it appeared that he was existing in two places at once. After a moment of confusion she realized that in the memory he was dreaming, or daydreaming, of somewhere other than where he truly was. While she observed his true location, realizing it was a prison cell-must've been Askaban-she found herself being drawn into his daydream with him.

"Blood red lips traced with a tongue they shine, they cut through a crowded room. A look can say a lot sometimes, and so I take all my past attractions and project them on her. Every disappointment and mistake, some resentment from a one-night heartbreak. My head is spinning, my hands go damp, but still I force an introduction and I ask her to dance. She feels like home, up against me so close, though we've just met again tonight. There's still so much that we still don't know, but I'm fairly certain that we just might work out right. Then again it can all go up in flames, and I'll take her down in the name of love. But for now we kiss hard, fuck the games. All or nothing, it's written in blood."

She could see a woman, shadowy in his mind's eye, dancing with him. He seemed to know her, expect certain things with her. The words she was "hearing" from the memory were in fact his internal dialogue in his dream. Suddenly the image changed and while he was still in his cell she pictured with him another scene. He was no longer dancing with the woman but was now in bed with her.

"I turn you over and look in your eyes, promise you that this is forever, or till one of us dies. You taste like tear stains and could-have-beens, but I love a good train wreck. Your hair balled up inside my fist, you tell me don't get too attached, like this is just entertainment. Then again it could go up in flames, and I'll take you down in the name of love. Maybe one last kiss just to ease the pain, all or nothing it's written in blood."

The phrase "written in blood" repeated over and over and over in the memory and Persephone realized that Sirius in the memory had been battling insanity. The daydreams were his escape from his prison cell but at the same time they made little sense and only smatterings of images and sensations from the dreams made it into his memories.

She began to pull away from the memory but suddenly she saw herself, as she had been as a teenager, projected into his mind's eye. Persephone sucked in a breath as she watched herself within Sirius' memory. This time though, she could "hear" his thoughts and feel his reactions. She saw one of his first encounters with her from Hogwarts. It had been after nearly a year of attending the school together and bumping into one another and "scrapping" with one another over various issues

When she walked in the classroom he froze up, his conversation with his friends dying away. Escape from this sudden freeze was just a nod and a casual wave. She barely returned the gesture before sitting with her friends. 'She's just like all the others, it'll go away.' Or maybe this is danger, he is danger, and he just doesn't know.

Persephone shared that memory with him, she too could remember his cocky smile and wave at her, but apparently she'd struck him dumb. The next part confused her until she realized it had been what he'd wanted to do in reality but had only kept as a fantasy.

Then he walked up and told her, thinking maybe it'd pass. And they talked and looked away a lot, doing 'the dance.' Her hand brushed up against his, she left it there, told him how she felt and then they locked in a stare. They took a step back, thought about it, what should they do but their lips met, and reservations started to pass, whether this was just a fling or a thing that would last. Either way he wanted her and he knew this was bad, wanted to do things to her it was making him crazy. Then he grabbed her by the hair and told her, 'I want to hold you close, skin pressed against me tight, lie still, and close your eyes girl, so lovely, it feels so right. I want to hold you close, soft breath, beating heart, I want to fucking tear you apart.'

The outright sexual nature of one of his first real impressions of her shook her a bit. It astounded her that even before he'd really known her he'd had thoughts like that. His once, near violent need to possess her, was both frightening as well as invigorating.

She moved away from the jumbled up mess of memory and fantasy and instead moved forward a bit until she came to the day he'd sealed the deal on his idiocy. It had been the day she'd quite literally run into him in the woods. She watched, in his mind, the scene unfold, but as the scene took place she was privy to his erratic thoughts.

"Why don't you let me complicate you? Help me, I broke apart my insides; help me, I've got no soul to sell; help me, the only thing that works for me is you; help me, get away from myself. I want to fuck you like an animal; I want to feel you from the inside. I want to fuck you like an animal, my whole existence is flawed. You can have my isolation; you can have the hate that it brings. You can have my absence of faith, you can have my everything. Help me tear down my reason, help me become somebody else."

In his memory she saw herself smack him and stomp away. She hadn't realized at the time that she'd started crying, but he remembered her tears. She could feel his anguish, his anger at himself and his friends, and his fear. Before she could prod further, however, the memories began to fade, and it seemed as if a black cloud was descending over her presence in his mind. She pulled out of his mind with a gasp, startled that he'd been able to push her out and equally startled to find herself in his arms.

He'd first become aware of her presence in his mind around the time that she'd seen his Azkaban memories. At first he'd wanted to push her out, protect the darkness and the pain of his past, but then he'd realized that perhaps by seeing these things she'd remember him. She'd remember them. The last memory had been enough, though, he'd felt she needed to see no more in order to understand their current situation. Besides, he didn't know if he could stand to relive the memories himself. He'd pushed her from his mind and gathered her shaking body into his arms. It felt good to hold her again, after so many years. She was warm, and flesh and blood, and real. All reassurances after his recent death.

It took her a moment to really come to her senses, otherwise he was sure she'd have leapt out of his arms. He stared down at her, his eyes wild and intense, his arms wrapped around her in a binding embrace, and watched as the dullness edged away from her eyes and instead fire burned again. They were breathing as one, having apparently linked in a way while she'd been prancing about in his brain.

"Persephone." His voice was thick with emotion. He was afraid she'd push him away again, not allow themselves a fresh start. He was afraid he'd really go insane if she left him alone in Hell. He was angry at himself, even now after so many years, for being a class A fuckup in regards to his treatment towards her. He was angry at fate; finally finding her again and being allowed the chance to apologize but only after he has died and can offer her no possible future.

She croaked out, "Sirius," and blinked up at him a moment longer before she started to wiggle in his arms. He understood the gesture and slowly, reluctantly, released her but did not move to sit further away from her. "I didn't recognize you."

"I know." His eyes never strayed from her face. "I recognized you though. That's how I knew where I was long before Napoleon and Aristotle spoke to me."

"I'm sorry." She was saying, softly at first, then over and over again, until his hand covering her clenched fist made her stop.

He raised a brow in response, "For what?"

"Well, you're dead, and the one person you initially recognize doesn't know you and treats you like a stranger. There is a good reason for that, by the way." She tugged at her ear before she spoke again. "Do you feel a little better today?"

Sirius closed his eyes before he replied, all this small talk was going to give him another headache, "I still ache and there are still moments of excruciating pain, but I find it is the shock of actually being here as well as finding you here that I'm having the most difficulty coping with."

"Yes, death is difficult to deal with." She would've babbled on but Sirius reached out and laid a hand over hers.

"I don't think you understand me. I mean to say that the horror of being dead and the knowledge of never truly being able to return is as much a shock as is the contrasting shock of finally finding you after years of searching and hoping to find you." Persephone looked surprised and Sirius smirked, a little bit of his youthful self showing through the years of pain etched into his face. "Oh yes, I wanted to see you again. Sure when you first left Hogwarts I let pride keep me from really looking for you, then everything turned to hell when James and Lily died, and after that it just got worse until I ended up in Azkaban. You know what's crazy? Memories of you insulting me and fantasies of what we'd do if we ever met again both helped keep me sane, as did the burning desire to seek justice for James' murder."

Persephone could only blink at him a moment before she found her voice to reply, "Well, um, I am dearly sorry for what happened to your friends. I'm not sure if they are here or not, as they would've arrived many years before I did. We can look for them though, if you like." She stood up and held out her hand to him, "Why don't we head back to my place so you can have a more comfortable place to adjust in?"

He took her hand, pulling her closer to him once he was standing. She was fighting something inside herself, he was well aware of that, from the way she was fidgeting and talking so formally, unlike her usual self. He wanted to release whatever it was she was fighting. Even if it meant only that for for the rest of eternity he'd have her ire and hatred, at least he'd have something from her again. His fingers were long, warm, firm, and he still towered over her. The years may have aged them both, him more so than her, but some things had not changed. He knew he was still fairly attractive-despite the pain permanently etched into the lines of his face-and she was most definitely still a bundle of energy. He held on to her for as long as possible before she retracted her hand and stepped away.

After they broke apart, a few lingering moments later, she led the way back towards the interior. On the way she explained some of the physics of his new abode. He listened attentively, only stopping whenever the pain gripped him again, but he made no attempt to touch her or return to the previous topic of their shared past. It was long after she'd gotten him into her house—after convincing her grandfather that she wasn't fraternizing or playing favorites, though in a way she was—and he'd showered and changed that either of them felt tempted to return to the topic. Sirius, of course, was the one to break back into that territory.

"I think still after all these years," He swallowed another sip of the tea she'd offered him, "I think still after all these years, something still burns."

He would tell her the truth. He was in Hell and had nothing to lose after all. He could sound sappy, he could sound stupid, he could sound desperate-and he was-but she was the only link he had to life, to what he'd been before his life had become a living hell. She was the last semblance of light that he had access to, and he was most certainly not going to let pride or fear keep him from pursuing that to its furthest reaches. She may still despise him, she may find his timing shitty-and it most definitely was-but he would find a way to have some sort of a relationship with her and perhaps with time-as that was most definitely a commodity he had plenty of now-she would warm up to the idea of becoming closer.

Persephone didn't immediately respond. She wasn't usually so tongue tied, or cowardly, but perhaps Hell brought out that side of her while in the presence of someone who had so obviously been a part of her decision to remain with her grandfather. While she still didn't remember everything, and Sirius had regaled her with his own understanding of the events that'd led to his death, and she still didn't recall all the emotions she'd felt towards him, she did know instinctively that it had been Sirius Black who'd caused her to choose a life in Hell. She'd finished her schooling at an American wizarding school but had foregone all possible job offers in the wizarding world and had instead offered herself to her grandfather as a sort of apprentice. So many years of dealing with death and pain had numbed her to her own.

"It is Hell. Things burn here." She finally spoke, finishing off her tea and setting it aside.

They sat in matching chairs in front of her fireplace. If it were any other place, any other people, any other time, the scene would look quite domestic. A man in a dressing robe, recently showered and shaved, house slippers on his feet, sipping tea while beside him sat a woman, obviously tired from a long day, house slippers on her feet as well, but edgy with a desire to be as equally clean and ready for bed as the man was. She was afraid that it she didn't keep him and her own returning emotions at arm's length then she'd give in to this allusion of simplicity, this ideal of a domestic existence with him, and then she'd be left disappointed and in pain again. Of course, as Napoleon so helpfully pointed out earlier, it was Hell after all.

"Persephone, can you not remember how you felt about me or how I felt about you? Does this place really affect you so much?" Sirius sounded pained and Persephone wondered if it was her grandfather's testing or an inward torture that made him sound that way. "Are we always going to act like strangers? Former acquaintances?"

Persephone grabbed her tea cup and reached for his, "In a way, yes, this place does affect me that much. I get snatches of emotions and memories but sometimes they feel as if they were felt and made by a stranger, a girl I lost contact with years and years ago. Just as you are no longer the boy that girl knew, I am no longer the girl that boy knew. Perhaps we should act like strangers until we find a new balance."

She'd made her way into the kitchen as she'd explained herself. She deposited the dishes into the sink and stood there with her head bowed, a headache threatening to explode. She was torn. She wanted to remember everything, all the pain and pleasure, of her life with Sirius. Yet, she also wanted to know what could develop between them based not on the past but on the present, forgoing the past as if it hadn't occurred. Did relationships need a past to continue into a future? Could they work that way?

"What'll you do when you get lonely and nobody's waiting by your side?" His voice was suddenly close by her ear and she shivered despite her better judgment. It seemed her body remembered how to react to his presence. "Remus asked me that years ago, not long after you left. He'd seen how I felt towards you and had never condemned my behavior with words but most definitely did with his looks and actions." Sirius leaned his head forward until if she looked with her peripherals she could make out the stubble on his chin, so close to her face that she could feel his warmth. "You've been running and hiding, just as much as me, Persephone. I may not know exactly what you've been running and hiding from in recent years but even before you came here you had a tendency to run and hide." She whirled around and found him standing entirely too close, so close that she now felt hemmed in against the sink behind her and his body in front of her. "My pride ruined our past. I accept responsibility in that. But let's make the best of this situation, before I finally go insane."

"So you admit this is just about you then?" She couldn't find it in her to sound angry, she was still to shocked to really feel much more than that.

His pained gaze held her rooted to her spot. "It is about us, Persephone. Where I want to repair what I can of the past, beg your forgiveness, perhaps glean some of the light that still resides within you, I also want you to look at me and not feel pain, not feel regret, not wish for something other than what is." He sighed and look away for a brief moment, "Please don't say I'll never find a way, and tell me all my hope is in vain." He reached out a hand towards her face but seemed to be suddenly overcome by pain and dropped to his knees. He leaned his head forward until it rested against her thigh. His voice was muffled against her trousers as he spoke, "Persephone, look at me, you've got me on my knees." He looked up at her and even in his pain she could see a spark of amusement. "That's the way it should be now don't you think? Me begging, and you with the power to ease my worried mind."

Too shocked by his confession to do much, Persephone stood for a few silent moments longer before she reached down and stroked her fingers through his shaggy hair. He tipped his head up more and stared at her, his heart and vulnerability blatantly open on his face.

"I'm afraid," that was the truth and they both knew it, "we're just going to hurt each other again. From what I do remember we were volatile and unhealthy. Neither one of us really knew how to express ourselves or how to make our wants and needs known. I know this is Hell and it's supposed to be crappy but I don't want to make it worse for you or for me." She knelt down so that they could be eye level. "Can we not avoid further heart break and instead remain as we are for now?"

Sirius reached out and cupped the back of her neck with one hand while with the other he traced his knuckles against her throat. She felt herself leaning further into his touch until his lips were pressed close to her ear, "What if I want you to break my heart? It'd only be fair." He pressed his lips against her skin, his fingers at the back of her neck massaging gently. "The pain from you would be a welcome change." He whispered against the skin of her throat as he continued to trace his lips down. "Come on and give it your best, nothing less, I insist." He pulled back and tipped her head back by cupping her chin with his free hand. He stared at her with heavy lidded eyes, his desire mixing with his need. "It sounds good to me. Do it over again," he leaned up and kissed her forehead, "and again," he kissed her cheek, "and again," he kissed the corner of her mouth and lingered a second longer than he had with the previous kisses, "you're just what I need."

When he pulled back she found herself near gasping from her need for more. His touch, his words, his presence had ignited a long forgotten burning in her core. She didn't understand her sudden, near obsessive, desire to crawl into his arms and surround herself with him, his scent, his laughter, his arms, anything that was him. It shocked and terrified her. She narrowed her eyes at him, feeling the need to draw upon any anger he'd made her feel all those years go, any pain he'd caused her, to help her control this rediscovered passion. He had released something inside her that she'd kept under lock and key. If he knew that he still had power over her then the game, if it was a game, would be up.

"You can stare me down," he must've sensed her ploy because he was smiling in the face her glare, "try to intimidate me; but you'll never break me. Now that I've found you again and I have the knowledge that I can't leave you behind, ever, again, let's just say I'm ready for you to bring it on, because I can take it." He leaned his head forward until his forehead rested against hers. "You control me, Persephone; you control my future here."

Persephone shot to her feet and stepped away. Sirius followed, at a much slower rate, his eyes filled with hope and pain, his mouth only quirked slightly in a soft smile. He was obviously resisting the urge to hide behind cocky self-assurance, a feat he'd always done before. She had a choice as well. She could hide behind her habit of running, as he'd already stated she would, or she could bite the bullet and surge into the unknown with him.

What did she have to lose anyway? He was dead topside so it wasn't as if he had anywhere else to go or anyone else to go to—though there was the possibility of him finding a playmate of sorts further on down the road from among the residents, but that option seemed remote at best. Hell was large but it wasn't so large that they could avoid each other forever, if she even wanted to try. She had no options for a mate of any kind down here—either she or her grandfather was too picky-nor would anyone topside understand her work. Even before Sirius had shown up she'd found herself at a wall. In the wall was a door and through the door was an acceptance of always being alone. Sirius' arrival had, however, blasted into the wall another door. Through this door she didn't know what lay but it was an entirely better option than settling for spinsterhood.

Persephone took a steadying breath before she turned on her heel and walked towards her bedroom. She heard Sirius follow after a moment's pause. When she entered her bedroom she left the light off and turned when he flicked on the switch and stood hovering in the doorway.

"Persephone?" His voice was thick with emotion and she smiled.

"Come on closer," He paused only for a second before he cautiously drew closer, stopping only when their toes were touching. "I want to show you what I'd like to do." She reached forward and began to peel away the clothing from Sirius' body. He was shaking, either from fear or anticipation, she couldn't quite tell, but he made no move to stop her or touch her, and for that she was grateful. Perhaps he understood her need to do this, her need to control their first moment of true intimacy. "Sit back." She turned and guided him to her bed where she pushed at his shoulders until he sat, gloriously naked. His body was riddled with scars and tattoos and she looked forward to kissing every single one of them, but that would have to wait. "Going to take it slow Sirius, do it my way." He nodded mutely, his eyes wide as she began to undress. When she was as equally naked as he she saw him swallow and smiled. "Keep your eyes on me." He nodded again, surprise, desire, hope all etched into the lines of his face. "Your reactions are what I want to see. Don't hold anything back, Sirius, you cannot shield yourself from me. Not anymore. That's the deal here." He nodded again and she smiled.

"Persephone?"

"Yes, Sirius?" She stepped closer, her legs brushing against his.

"I love you." He spoke on an exhale, his whole body heaving with the words, as if a weight had been lifted and his soul released from a burden.

Persephone smiled again, tears touching her eyes. His words had awakened more memories, both painful and beautiful, and with it emotions she'd thought lost forever. Before her sat Sirius Black, a man tortured by life but within him the boy she'd fallen in love with. He loved her and did not seem upset by that fact or desirous of running away from it. She reached out and pushed at his shoulders until he was lying down and she straddled his hips, bringing them closer together than ever before, no barriers of any kind between them.

"And I you, Black."