Black Velvet

The young man parked his flying motorcycle by the nearest tree and stood in front of the narrow path that led to the eerie little cottage. It had nothing cottage-like about it, save the size.

His knock on the ebony door was followed by a thunder of footsteps from the inside. Very unlike her, he thought. She was always the kind of person to walk with a defiant sort of grace, always very slow and very calm.

The door opened to reveal a pale girl, dressed in a full-sleeved, black velvet dress, which seemed far too long for her as it went past her feet. Even the gold-embroidered sleeves only allowed the mere tips of her fingers to escape. His gaze finally ended in her dark eyes, navy or black? It was always hard to tell.

"Hullo there, dear cousin," he said very merrily - it almost sounded false - breaking the rigid silence, "will you not invite me in?"

After a second of awkwardness, she let out a breathless laugh, letting him in. "You came earlier than I expected you."

"Well, I was invited for a late dinner. You said eight-thirty in your last owl."

"Yes, but you had a reputation for being--"

"Fashionably late?" he finished with a laugh. "Well of course. But I thought I'd surprise dear Bella today." He put away his coat and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Missed me?"

"As much as I could manage. We're very busy here as it is."

"Ah yes...the Lestrange prat. Sorry, I know he's your fiancé, but I can't pay him a higher compliment. I did miss you though," he chuckled, "it is kind of hard when I've been used to seeing you almost everyday for seven years--the fact that I couldn't stand you is irrelevant, I still can't--but suddenly there was no Bella to bother in my life. You don't realize how difficult that is!"

"Oh, I do. We're having a turkey tonight."

"On what occasion?"

"You're here."

"No honestly..."

"Honestly. I was learning how to cook. Rodolphus wanted me to learn. And I wanted to learn too so I could make you turkey. House elves can never do it right. I remember how you used to love the Christmas dinner."

"Ah yes. The turkey was the second best reason to go home for Christmas."

"And the first?" she looked up.

"You look lovely tonight! Really Bella, what is the occasion?"

"The occasion is you. What was the first?"

"Oh it doesn't really matter. It was so long ago," he laughed, almost fighting nostalgia. It felt odd really. He hated thinking of his old house. "Anyhow, I bet your turkey is ten thousand times better than mother's or Aunt Cassiopeia's."

She gave up now, heaving a tired sigh as she stood by the countertop.

"What?"

"Nothing," she tried to sound stoic, uncaring, but did not succeed.

He came up behind her, "What's wrong Bella."

"I feel so old. I'm getting married. Can you believe it?"

"No, not really." He was so brutally honest sometimes. "But are you happy with him?" he whispered, not knowing if he really cared.

"Yes. I believe I am."

"Then there is nothing to worry about. Except, of course, the fact that he's a git and a half, and in over his head with the dark arts, and a complete son of a--"

"Sirius!"

"Sorry," he mumbled, "I'm sorry. Doesn't he care that you called me over tonight?"

"He doesn't know."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why not?" He knew the answer, but testing her was fun. Besides, he never grew out of his habit of asking the obvious just so he could hear someone say it out loud.

"Are you really that clueless? He hates you, just like our entire family."

"But you don't." He rested his chin on her shoulder. The smile was clear in his voice. "Not as much as you'd like to anyway."

"Plus," she added, ignoring his comment, "he doesn't trust me with you."

He laughed at this, "For good reasons, I can assure you, darling. Who wouldn't fall in love with the magnificent Sirius Black if they were given ten minutes alone with him?"

This playful child still hadn't grown up but it irritated her now. "Bellatrix Black. That's who."

"Well of course," he said offhandedly, wrapping his arms around her waist, testing still...somewhat. A little surprisingly, she did not resist at all. "That one goes without saying."

She turned around abruptly with a rather sad look on her pretty face. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm lying to myself."

"How so?" he whispered.

"Just so," she traced his jaw with a finger. Her voice was no louder than his. It may have been obvious what she meant, but she wouldn't dare admit it. If you will keep your secrets then I will keep mine. But some things did not require words.

What happened next was what she had feared since the thought of inviting him first struck her. Perhaps she had carried out the idea because, in the back of her mind, she had wanted it to happen.

It was hard to tell whether he had kissed her or she had kissed him. In the end, it really wasn't such a significant detail. In the end, such things didn't really matter.

She breathlessly broke away, "Sirius..." But he silenced her once again.

She found herself backed against the kitchen wall on her second attempt at pulling away. "Sirius," she said a little more urgently, now resting her forehead on his chin so that this could go no further.

"Yes Bella." The effort he put into controlling his voice was clear. He seemed to have had forgotten reality and everything that came with it.

"I'm getting married, Sirius."

"So?" He sounded almost defiant, almost losing patience with her.

She sighed, realizing it made no difference to him, but she held him in silence for a long time.

Silence, silence. They ate dinner in silence. He complimented her cooking and the selection of drinks.

He wanted to tell her not to leave the man she was with, not to marry Lestrange, but he was afraid that she might actually listen to him.

He did love Bella, even though it was a twisted, complex sort of love, but love nevertheless. Love that made him date only tall, slender, dark-haired, pale-faced girls that resembled her, but it was never quite the same. And that same love had made him threaten Lestrange loads of times. But he had been a fiery young boy then, too young to know it was love and too young to understand that hatred was sometimes an exceptionally exaggerated and extreme case of love. He loved her as much as it was possible for someone like him to love someone like her.

Like similar electric charges, they repelled ferociously, one of the reasons that made them ambivalent towards each other since childhood. Of course, they were opposites in so many ways, but the history they shared and the lives they led would never allow them to live at peace with one another.

More often than not, it seemed that the turbulence between them was the root of the passion. The problem was that there would always be an ambivalence: the hopeless romance and the irreparable resentment. They were harmony and discordance, and lived a ceaseless cycle of fervor and falling out, and he knew that there was no future in that.

After dinner he regained his casual manner, yawning rudely and thinking aloud that it was time he left.

"So...am I invited to the wedding?" he asked informally at her doorstep.

"No," she looked away.

"Oh."

"I'm sorry."

"It's quite alright actually. I can't imagine what I'd do there."

"He didn't want you there."

"It's okay, Bella."

"I didn't disagree because I didn't know how I'd manage with you being there," she blurted. And they were silent for a while.

That was admission enough on her part but he said nothing except for, "Really, I don't mind. Take care, Bella."

"Sirius, can I ask you one last favour?"

He felt a little nervous as he answered, "...okay."

"Just don't call me that."

"Okay Bella," he grinned, relieved.

"Please."

"Fine," he rolled his eyes, "just don't forget that I started with that name, 'kay?"

"I won't." No matter how hard I try.

"Well then. I don't know when I'll see you again, cousin dearest. Have a good future as Mrs. Bellatrix Lestrange." He wiped her teary eyes and kissed her swiftly on the forehead for the last time in his life. He could manage this, he told himself. He was Sirius Black after all.

"Goodbye."