A Surreal Tale

"Help! Help me--"

Antares winced, freezing in the act of slipping into the shadows near Borgin and Burkes. Sometimes, he thought disgustedly, my luck is really horrible--

"Hel--urk!"

Antares reluctantly took his eyes off the dusty little book Burke had just conveniently placed in an easily reached corner of the nearest display window. He peered up the street, hoping that whatever struggle was going on might resolve itself and let him get on. Only the people close to the action were paying much attention to it, unfortunately. Burke was actually peering out of his shop window in the opposite direction of the commotion-- right in Antares' direction.

Fuck, Antares thought, but his body was already acting for him, carrying him boldly out of the shadows and into the street, as if Burke and his annoyingly spot-on paranoia didn't exist. Yes, he'd been seen-- Burke's eyes felt like needles in Antares' side. Antares forced himself on, knowing that his desire to turn and give the old idiot a piece of his mind would do him no good. Explaining that he was just bored and itching for something new to look at would do even less good-- boredom on Knockturn as a kid meant you stole or you beat someone up, or chased someone until they cried.

Which was why Antares had avoided the beggars on instinct when he'd slunk into Knockturn today. Not that he had to now-- one of them was wrestling with some hapless kid right now, a richly robed, skinny, tearful kid. Tastier bait than Antares had ever been for a bored, mean beggar.

Scratch that, Antares thought, getting closer to the struggle. Big bastard's got boots on, he's no beggar. Antares ducked round a pair of arguing hags, now mildly interested in watching the fight; he'd never seen that man before. He was an unlucky size-- for the boy he had by the throat, anyway-- and had the sort of angry, scowling face you'd make yourself remember.

"Help!" The rich boy had fought his way out of the man's grip, and was trying to make a run for it. No such luck; he ran into other beggars, and they held onto him while the man swaggered back up.

"Steal from me, will you?" the man growled, leaning in. Antares rolled his eyes-- as if some rich drip could be that daft and that fast. Daft was easy, the steady stream of soft little kids that thought they'd be cool and go down the alley on their own showed that. Fast? Antares often marvelled at how fast the softies shot out of Knockturn when they tangled with the wrong hag or were shook down for pocket money. But daft and fast...

"Skin 'is face, Ming!" one of the beggars urged, and Ming smiled, flexing his big arm. The rich boy groaned as he was hit in the face, and barely avoided a second swing of Ming's fist. The beggars cheered anyway, and Antares suddenly realised that this could be the Ming, the one they all talked of, insulted, deferred to. Ming and the rich boy dropped out of sight then, prompting cursing and excited encouragement from the beggars, and Antares found himself pressing closer and trying to get a better view.

He soon had all the view he liked. The fight was heading sharply towards one of the empty little shops near Borgin's, and the beggars headed after it, ignoring Antares when he carefully pushed through. Ming had just shoved the boy into the dingy glass of the shop; grinning, he dragged him up and shoved him into it again, laughing as he sank down.

"Like a house elf, he is," Ming said. "Squealing for help." The beggars hooted as he caught the boy up by the neck of his robes and hit him again. "Merlin's balls, the feel of this stuff," Ming said, flicking at the boy's robes. "Like breeches!" He yanked the boy away from the wall and kicked him as he went down. "Like that, breech boy?"

Breech boy was coughing, scrabbling on the dank stone. Antares eyed the boy as he rolled over, still coughing. There was blood on his face. He was stupidly putting his filthy hand to it when Ming kicked him again.

Antares called out, despite himself, "That's enough, isn't it?" But the beggars were drowning him out, surging forward to see the blood now spattering the boy's robes. Antares jabbed his way through, still trying to make himself heard, and suddenly he was spat out by the crush, right between Ming and the other boy. "That's enough, isn't it?" Ming was already surging forward, trying to shove him aside. Antares resisted. "Take his robes; they're worth more than whatever he did--"

Ming elbowed him in the side, and batted at him when he refused to take the hint. Antares wasn't quick enough, and the world was still wobbling oddly around him when he tripped Ming, dodging his grasping hands as he went down. Breech boy was moving weakly nearby, and responded wildly to being dragged up again by the neck of his robes, hitting Antares in the face. By now, the beggars were cheering him, and Ming was halfway up. The look on his face had Antares bullying the other boy after him as soon as he got to his feet, dragging him along when he wouldn't budge.

Easier said than done, though; the boy's soft robes kept slipping out of Antares' grip, and he was still sobbing in great gasps, still fighting even though no one was stopping them. Antares looked back instinctively and blanched.

No one was stopping Ming either.

Antares slapped the boy to try and calm him down. It froze him for a moment, enabling Antares to hustle them both into Borgin's somehow and slam the door behind them.

Ming shouted something through the door, banging at it as Antares deftly jammed the threadbare welcome mat into the space under the door, hissing a feeble stay-put charm as he did so. The door rattled and bulged, but held, and since Breech boy was staring at him now, grateful and confused, Antares turned and spied out the book he'd wanted, and was ogling it in his hands a moment later.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing in my shop?"

Breech boy started and shrunk towards the door, but not very much; as menacing as Burke could be, he looked a far safer bet than Ming. He was trying to be menacing, coming up behind them like that, but it didn't make any difference to the boy, who stretched an unsteady hand towards him. "Please don't throw us out!"

But Burke wasn't paying any attention to him. His sharp little gaze already occupied with peeling Antares and everything around him instead. Antares tried not to shrink back, all too aware of how bad it would look to do that and then produce the book from the pocket he'd instinctively stuck it into. And Burke wasn't going away, or even paying any attention to the hammering on his oddly blocked front door. His eyes were scanning the shelves nearest to them, checking the shop window--

Antares dove for the welcome mat, cursing himself. Burke's cry of outrage was soon drowned out by Ming's roar of triumph as he lurched into the shop, narrowly missing Antares and Breech boy, who dodged out of the shop on Antares' heels without any extra prompting.

The beggars cheered them all the way out to where Knockturn met Diagon, and in spite of everything, Antares' heart rose. Breech boy was gasping and coughing again by the time they burst out in front of Gringotts, and even Antares had begun to slow down. Ming wasn't after them now. Probably held up by whatever damage he'd caused in Borgin and Burkes, crashing in like that. And out in the cleaner light of Diagon Alley, Breech boy didn't look half as bad as Antares had thought. Bloody, yes, and dazed, but he'd stopped looking so wild, and was only sniffing a bit, and staring at Antares.

"You took something," the boy got out, looking impressed. "Didn't you? I almost didn't see it, but--"

"I didn't take a thing," Antares said, giving him a hard look. "And you're fucking welcome."

"Er," Breech boy said, disbelief on his face, of all things. "I took something too, it's not like--"

"What?" Antares grabbed hold of the boy's sleeve, yanking him close. "Give it, stupid! I'll already catch fuck from them for standing up for a rich twat like you, and now you say took something?"

"Antares Black!" Antares, startled, nearly let the boy go. Then a firm, familiar hand had seized him by the shoulder and was prising them apart, and he was looking up into Bella's angry face. "Ten minutes I take my eye off you, and look what you do." She turned him to and fro with one hand, eyeing him up and down, and to Antares' dismay, soon spotted the bulge in his pocket. "How many times must I tell you? Where," she said, digging out a corner of the book from his pocket, "is this from?"

"He didn't do anything wrong!" Breech boy said bravely. He wasn't shaking in Bella's grip, but didn't look very happy to be caught up by her. No one ever wanted to be this close to Antares' mother when she was angry. And, now that she'd really seen the other boy, she was angry. Antares knew Breech boy's bloody face wasn't his fault, but he shrank anyway when Bella's gaze turned on him.

"Tell me you didn't do this," she said.

"I didn't, mum," Antares said, clearly. Whispering never helped with Bella. "I swear."

"It was some beggar," Breech boy was saying shakily. "I knew I shouldn't have gone in."

"I see," Bella said, her tone hard. Breech boy shook his head uselessly, not seeming to realise she wasn't talking to him. Her anger had gone now, replaced by a wry, oddly relieved look that Bella was giving Antares despite the obviously stolen book she had in hand. She let him go then, handing the book back to him after a pause. "You'll take it back this instant, you hear me?"

"But Mum--"

"Now, Antares." Bella said. "Unless you'd like me to go with you?" Antares, defeated, turned and started off, only to run into someone tall and expensive-smelling. It was a panicked-looking wizard that pushed him roughly aside, making for Bella. Antares saw her quickly reach for her wand, and just as quickly halt the gesture as Breech boy was gathered into what looked to be the arms of his very worried, very angry father.

"Where have you been, Blaise?" the man cried. "You said you'd meet me at Eeylops, you little-- is that blood?" Breech boy-- or, rather, Blaise, was now being checked over with a spell that looked to be much the same one Bella might have used, and making faces at the treatment.

"He was in Knockturn Alley," Bella said coolly, finally drawing Blaise's father's attention. He paled, and glared down at Blaise, but the look on his face was nothing to the hard one Bella was giving Antares now. "My son brought him out just a moment ago. Didn't you, Antares?"

Antares fumed inwardly as Blaise's rich father looked him over and said something about being grateful that the narrow look on his face did not support. Antares tried not to bristle. He knew he looked the part of a bully, if an unusually short, skinny one, but that was no reason for Blaise not to say a thing about the fact that he wasn't. "He took something from the beggars, sir," he said out of spite, remembering what Blaise had said. If the little idiot had been lying then, he'd be sorry for it now. "They'd have left him alone if he hadn't."

It did the trick; Blaise's father was looking down at him in disgust as he sullenly produced a grubby bag Antares immediately recognised. "What is this, Blaise?" the man asked, weighing it in his hand. When Blaise shook his head, his father rolled his eyes, turning back towards Antares. "You say he took this from a beggar?"

Bella gave Antares a pointed look. "I know the one," he said hastily. "I'll take that back, if you please. Sir."

Blaise's father waved it over to him, his attention already back on his son, and Antares, impatient, tugged the slow-moving bag into his hand. Thankfully, Bella didn't notice, or there would have been another glare for him-- she was holding forth, now, on how very awful it could have gone for Blaise if Antares hadn't been there.

"Protection charms," or, as Antares knew them, amulets, "are very important to people there." The way Bella was speaking now was strange-- drawn out and deliberate, matching the way she held herself before Blaise's father, proud as ever. "Daily life on Knockturn is uneasy and unsafe at best." Which was why even the beggars, who needed every knut that rolled their way, made sure to spend on a well-made amulet much like the one Antares now had in his other pocket.

"So, Blaise," his father said, glaring down at him, "what did you say your reason for this stupidity was again?"

Blaise's hands dug deep in the pockets of his robes, and there was a scowl on his face. None of it did anything to disguise the shake in his low tone. "There weren't any beggars on Diagon Alley." He fidgeted for a moment, avoiding his father's eyes. "It was--it was sort of a dare, finding one."

"Ah," his father said, angrily. "So there was a dare." He laughed sourly. "Draco strikes again."

Blaise looked down. "He said it wouldn't be that hard to take something from one."

"Some people will say anything to make you feel less than them," Blaise's father said, pointedly. "Especially when you have something he doesn't." He scowled. "At least you had the presence of mind not to do this in Otterden." Antares nodded a little to himself; that explained the rich robes and slow speech.

"Draco said there weren't any in Otterden," Blaise muttered. Antares rolled his eyes, wondering if Breech Boy had ever been told the truth about half the population of the town. Any beggar stupid enough to hang around the lower end at night got what was coming to him, and since the goblins didn't tolerate loitering around during the day, no beggar lasted long there. Bella had always said there was a reason the pretty streets of Otterden smelled so sweet-- no one normal lingered there at night.

"And I say that Draco is no longer welcome in our house," his father said. Then, after a hard look at his son, he turned his sharp gaze on Bella. "Now, miss..."

"Black," Bella said, leaning closer. The man gave her a swift, startled look, then shook his head slightly, beginning to pat himself for something. Antares hid a smile, hoping he did not look too much like he was hanging around on purpose. He couldn't help but linger by Blaise's father as he fished out his well-sealed, handsome purse, if only out of habit. It annoyed him now, the way he found himself slowing as he passed someone rooting around in their pockets; as Bella kept telling him, they didn't need to steal now. She certainly no longer looked like someone that needed to steal, not in her tidy, drab working robes.

And, as Blaise's father already seemed to have realised, she certainly didn't look like someone who might take offence at being offered money. Some sort of Black, Antares could almost hear him thinking, but not one of the Blacks. "Yes, yes," he now said, whisking a small money bag out of the air. "I simply must show my gratitude for your help--"

Take it, Antares prayed, knowing how much his mother's unseen heritage still lingered in her. But he didn't need to. Bella's hand was out, and her posture appropriate, and what looked and sounded like twenty-five--no, thirty, thirty Galleons was being spilled into that little bag. Perhaps it was that the man had so obviously not seen through his mother's well-worn glamour, so well made of real and exaggerated want. Perhaps it was because she could see Antares pretending not to hang around.

Antares, watching his mother close the bag, snorted to himself. He could perhaps all he liked; there were just some days Bella would take charity, and some days she wouldn't. Today, thankfully, was one of the days an improbably grateful smile graced her face, half-dropping off only when Blaise and his father were well away. Relief took its place as she put the bag away, very carefully.

"I'm not going to follow you in, Antares," Bella said, startling him a little. "Go on, for god's sake, and be out quickly." She looked wistfully over at Gringotts, then to the right of it, at Madam Malkin's. "Meet me outside Malkin's."

Antares tried not to grin. "Wage day, isn't it?"

Bella didn't quite smile, and said nothing as she turned, heading for Malkin's. The wry look on her face said what he already knew-- that it didn't matter, not today. This wage day, Malkin could flitter and flutter and forget if she liked. The rent would be fine for the rest of the month, and maybe a little more.

Antares, finally heading back into Knockturn, felt six feet tall.

* * *

Antares wasn't walking quite so tall when he emerged before Gringotts again. His jaw hurt, but he refused to clutch at it like that Blaise boy had been doing by the end. He wondered why on earth he'd felt so confident that it wouldn't be hard to return the stolen book. He'd never see it now, not after the way Burke had been shouting. The amulet had been worse. Ming had got him square in the face when he'd gone to give it back. Not hard, because he'd likely had a think on how much he needed the stupid thing back, but hard enough.

Mum'll show him, Antares thought, blinking away at the sting in his eye. Next time, he'd bloody well make her come with him. No one would dare hit him in the face and call him names then.

The sun was now out in full force, as were the people. There was the usual crowd near the mouth of Knockturn, where sticky-fingered people sucking on Fortescue's Famous Fire ices mingled with impatient-looking folk trying to push through to Gringotts and beyond. Antares paused outside Fortescue's despite himself, sighing at some of the smells already around him, then plunged back into the crowd, now determinedly making for Malkin's.

It didn't go well. In minutes, he'd been dripped on, stepped on, and soon-- "Watch it!"-- almost knocked down. Antares cursed and kicked out, hoping to catch the idiot who'd done it. Someone yelped and dropped more things on him, packages that rolled down Antares and got underfoot. Antares, now truly annoyed, caught at the person's robe, hoping to find a pocket to strip.

He didn't expect to be caught in return, or whirled around, forcibly bumped into more people. "You little rat!" The crowd around them gave way, and soon began to move past them, giving Antares and the wizard that had caught him a wide berth. Antares, half-frozen in shock, hadn't a chance at avoiding the blow that followed. Struggling for breath, he fought the grip the wizard had on him-- the slight buzz of magic he could feel around them meant nothing good, and Bella would be furious if she didn't find him outside Malkin's waiting for her on time.

Suddenly, the wizard dropped him. Antares was on his feet in seconds, but the wizard got hold of him again, and was easily avoiding the frantic flailing of Antares' arms as the mostly ruined packages began to assemble into a rough pile. The glimpses Antares caught of the man holding him only made him more desperate to get away-- dark, lanky hair, hooked nose, sallow skin and hard black eyes, the very picture of what he'd always imagined a Death Eater might look like.

Antares, now beginning to shake, tried to remember the one he and Bella had come across in a pub, years ago. Is this him? he thought wildly. What a fucking day, please let it not be him...

The packages began to put themselves in a sack that had appeared at the command of the wizard, whose fingers were now digging into Antares' shoulder so hard that he couldn't keep still, and suddenly there were only the stained cobblestones beneath their feet to signify that anything had happened. And, of course, the persistent space in the crowd around them, and the searching stare of the wizard, burning into Antares' forehead. He dared not look up.

"What's your name?" the man now asked, waving a long bit of string into existence around the neck of the sack. When Antares, still panting from his struggle, said nothing, the man sighed in disgust. "Boy," he said, putting the disconcertingly cool end of his wand at Antares' neck, "speak."

"Take your hands off my son," a very welcome voice said, from behind Antares. And Bella was there, knocking away the wand from his neck, picking discouragingly at the man's smelly hand on Antares' shoulder, giving him a long, venomous look--

Freezing.

The annoyance on the man's face was rapidly disappearing, its place taken by shock. Antares couldn't breathe. The man was a Death Eater. Had to be, with the way Bella had gone pale--

"Bellatrix," the man said, his tone curiously empty. "What--what a surprise."

Bella's body suddenly blocked Antares' view of the man. "Let him go."

"He can't be your son," Antares heard the man say, in a tone that sounded more confused than threatening. "I can...he's a wizard, I can, I can feel it."

"Did I betray you, Severus?" Bella's voice was low and desperate, almost a whisper. "Did I?"

"No. But--"

"Then let him go!"

Severus did, causing Antares to gasp in relief. But Bella hadn't moved, and when Antares edged round her, anxious to see why, his heart sank to his stomach. Severus' hand had closed about his mother's wrist in a grip that looked so light Antares thought a sudden move on either of their parts could break it, but they both stood so still, and the way they stared at each other--

Severus nodded, almost--almost encouragingly, and let go. Bella stepped back and took firm hold of Antares, pulling him close to her, but she certainly wasn't backing away any further, not the way Antares thought they should be. He didn't care how carefully this Severus was looking at them now, or how deliberately he was lightening his bag of supplies, as if he thought a sudden movement would make them apparate away. Antares glared up at his mother, confused and frightened. Why weren't they apparating away?

And he would have asked, not caring if Severus could hear, if Bella hadn't given him a warning look, drawn him even closer, and done just that.

They landed hard, in no place Antares had ever seen before. Or, he thought, staring at the empty, wretched room around them, no place I want to see again. "Mum?"

"I'm fine," Bella said, bending and hugging him so swiftly Antares' knees buckled. "We're fine."

"Shouldn't we be gone already?" Antares asked feebly, despite the churning in his stomach that told him he'd be sick if they did. "I mean, he could track us."

"Yes," Bella said, easing back from him, a worried look on her face. "That's...he'll be here in minute. Any moment, now."

"Then let's go!"

Bella straightened. "No."

Antares stared at her, aghast. "Mum!"

"We can trust him," she said, slowly, as if she couldn't quite believe what she was saying. "He saved my life."

"What?" Antares stared at her. He couldn't remember anything about a Severus in what she'd told him. He would have, if Severus had been a Death Eater. Bella didn't say much about them, but when she did, it stuck with Antares. All he could remember of her leaving them was Maggie finding her in the graveyard. Not Severus. He didn't look the type, for one, and Maggie did, round and old and soft and kind. "But," Antares asked, unwilling to try and fit Severus into it, "but what about Maggie?"

"She did too," Bella said, now looking around the room. "But that was after him." The emptiness, the awful smell of the room that made Antares' skin crawl...none of it seemed to bother her. Severus coming after them, to be here in moments, didn't bother her.

"I don't understand!" Antares squeezed the hand that still held his, hard, hoping he could bring his mother back to her senses. "Why can't we just go?"

"I owe the man a life debt, or very close," Bella said, slowly. "All he wants to do is speak to me."

"And how the fuck do you know that?" Antares demanded. "He never said a thing! All he did was throw me around and stare at us!" There was a creak behind him, one that Antares tried to ignore, hoping to get through to his mother. "Mum, please."

Someone cleared their throat sharply behind Antares, making him nearly jump out of his skin. Dread dragged at him as he spun round; he didn't feel surprised to see Severus standing there, closing a door Antares hadn't noticed when they'd got there, his sallow face trying and failing to look apologetic. Antares backed away from him, breathing hard, and didn't stop until he felt Bella's hand on his shoulder, and could hear her oddly calm breathing.

"I apologise," Severus said, after an awkward moment. "I thought you were trying to rob me." Antares shifted uncomfortably under the man's cool, assessing stare, only half believing Severus was really talking to him. "I hope I didn't hurt you."

Bella cleared her throat as well, shifting behind Antares. "You probably weren't too far from the truth." When Antares glared up at her, she ignored him, giving Severus a weak smile. "You said you wanted to speak to me."

"Yes," Severus said, but nothing else followed it. If Antares looked hard at him-- which he didn't particularly want to-- he'd have sworn that the man was at a loss for words.

Bella sighed. "If that's it--"

"It isn't," Severus insisted. "I..." he looked around, and Antares could say with uncomfortable certainty that that look probably meant disgust. "This isn't a good place for a child."

"Which is why I thought you would be quick," Bella said, her tone becoming impatient. "Not like we have much to say to each other, is it?"

Severus gave her a long look. "You think so?" His voice, now very quiet, still seemed to fill the room. "I shouldn't have left you there, just like that."

Bella snorted. "Well, I was fine. Excellent, even." She tugged gently at the hair at Antares' neck, a move that usually meant she would kiss his forehead and be embarrassing, but this time, all she did was sigh. "Look, we'd better--"

"You wouldn't be living in Knockturn," Severus said, not seeming to hear her. "Not with him."

Bella stiffened a little at that, then relaxed slowly. Forcibly. "Severus, you needn't feel obligated."

Severus only pursed his already thin lips and changed the subject. "And you're working now." His eyes dipped down Bella's front, making Antares bristle. Not that Severus noticed. "Malkin's?"

Bella blinked. "Well, yes. How would you...?"

"Only Madame Malkin would dress her employees so cheaply," Severus said, a dry look on his face.

Bella gave him a real smile. "Won't argue with that."

"And," Antares said, not liking the faint satisfaction on Severus' face, "you'd know that how?" The glance he got for that was only cool, but Severus stiffened anyway, making his well-made robes hang just a little wrong. When there was no other answer, Antares looked up at Bella, and was happy to see her smile gone. "Mum? Shouldn't we...?"

"Someone I knew," Severus said curtly, startling Antares, "worked there." His tone was all politeness when he returned his gaze to Bella. "If you're going...you won't mind if I tell Albus I ran into you?"

Bella stiffened. "Albus...?"

Severus gave her a look that Antares could only describe as challenging. "Dumbledore." Antares couldn't help gaping for a moment at that. A Death Eater--former or no--on first-name terms with the chief of the Wizengamot?

Bella looked at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "You landed on your feet, I see." She gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Don't know why I didn't expect it, after--after Diagon. That's when I knew it was over. Your face in the Prophet."

Severus sagged slightly. "It was over the night you left."

"Left?" Bella said, bitterly. "I suppose you could call it that."

"If you're so bitter about it, why didn't you do anything?" The way Severus said that was almost light, but there was a hard set to his shoulders now. Antares suppressed a shiver. If Bella answered wrong... "More wands than Rodolphus' own hurt you, that night."

"Every wand in our circle had family," Bella spat, stepping forward. "How long do you think I'd have lasted, if I'd betrayed them all? How long," she said, drawing Antares closer, "do you think he would have lasted?"

Severus kept his silence. Antares was surprised at that. Right now, his mum was stiff with anger, and likely hard to face. But he'd have thought a Death Eater would talk back, even now.

Bella continued, in a low, tight tone. "Rodolphus and Rabastan were a different case entirely." She was speaking strangely again, almost like Blaise's father had out in the street, like it came natural to her. "They didn't have family that cared. And they started it. It was only right that they go to Azkaban. I very much hope they've been Kissed."

Antares flinched, less at the thought of the awful death prisoners faced in Azkaban, and more at the way Bella wished it on her former husband and his brother. She sounded like she meant it, with every breath in her body.

It was then that Severus finally spoke. "I see," he said, quietly, as if he really did. He shifted, letting his unnaturally dark eyes fall on Antares before he spoke again. "You mean him to go to Hogwarts."

Antares stiffened as his mother relaxed. "You still teach there?" she asked, stroking Antares' hair.

"As Potions Master, yes."

"Well," Bella said, hesitantly. "I do. He needs a future, and Hogwarts is the best-- the only way. He's just about old enough. Maybe even too old. But I haven't received the letter yet, and I..."

"Come to my house," Severus said. "I can Floo Albus for you, and we can discuss this over lunch, or tea."

Bella hesitated, gripping Antares tightly again. Antares scowled; he just knew she would say yes. Adding Hogwarts to the debt she said she owed Severus...but her silence had stretched. Maybe--

"All right," Bella said. "But," she continued, sharply, as Severus stepped forward. "Separately. And I go first, with..." and her grip on Antares eased.

Antares relaxed for a moment, thankful for the welcome caution Bella was showing. Apparating first might give them the chance to leave if something was wrong. It probably wasn't much of one, considering what wards a Death Eater like this Severus probably had on his house, but it was enough.

"Let me show you where it is, then," Severus said, but he and Bella just stood there, staring at each other. Severus blinked first, after a long moment. When he did, Bella looked down at Antares, pulling him closer. "In a moment, then."

Bella nodded, and just as Antares looked up at her to ask her what was going on, they Apparated again.

* * *