Chronicles of Darkness: Dark Measures

Gazing down at the dead body of his former friend, Sirius suddenly felt very sick. He made a mad dash for the bathroom. It took great effort not to touch the grime encrusted toilet seat as he threw up. He went to splash water on himself, but changed his mind as the water came out yellow.

Zenobia was hunched over the Bar´s Floo talking to Frank Longbottom when Sirius stepped quietly back into the room. His skin had turned clammy and pale, he paid the conversation going on through the fire little mind as he lowered himself onto a stool at the bar.

When she was done, she knelt next to Mirabelle Weasley´s body. It´s always the one´s you least suspect.

Sirius was struggling to light a cigarette with shaky hands.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yeah, just needed to empty the contents of my stomach," he answered. He gazed silently down at the corpse. Mirabelle was a pale freckled face, swimming in a sea of red hair. "She can´t have been a Death Eater. That would go totally against her character."

"Only one way to know for sure," Zenobia said. She reached down and lifted Mirabelle´s left arm. Pushing up the sleeve of the heavy black robes, she revealed the Dark Mark emblazoned on the dead girl´s skin.

"So that´s why they looked up your sleeve," Sirius said, attempting once more to light his cigarette.

"Yes. As far as we know, it is just a means of identification," Zenobia explained. She stood in a swift movement, taking the lighter from his trembling hands and lighting his cigarette for him. "And it works, because it doesn´t show up when you use Polyjuice Potion to change into someone who is a Death Eater."

"So it´s something embedded into the skin?"

She nodded. The door to the bar burst open and in poured a rally of Aurors, Junior Aurors, and other Ministry reps. Among them was Frank Longbottom and Alastor Moody. Frank looked worried, but Alastor merely looked annoyed, his mussed hair indicated clearly that he had been dragged out of his bed for this.

"Jesus," Alastor muttered, looking down at Mirabelle. "Who would have imagined that?"

"She worked for the Ministry," Frank said, shaking his head. "What´s the plan?"

Zenobia always felt strange being in charge of a group that included her former mentors. But she knew that it was her raid, and therefore her call.

She raised her voice so all present could hear her.

"I want this place scoured for evidence. Leave no corner, nook, or cranny un-searched! Do not talk to the press! Don´t give them names, don´t give them facts, don´t tell them anything. No matter what it is they are asking, you are not at liberty to say." She paused, letting that sink in. "I want anyone who knew or worked with Mirabelle Weasley brought in for questioning. I want Sleepy here," she said, nudging the stunned Death Eater with her foot, "taken to an interrogation room at the office. Now get moving."

The room whirred into action again. Junior Aurors with their Magical plastic baggies and gloves began gathering items left around the bar. A few men came to carry the unconscious Death Eater away. Mirabelle was covered in a sheet and taken away by St. Mungo´s workers.

Alastor smiled wryly at her. "You are by far my greatest work of art," he said, placing a friendly hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you, Alastor," she said. She began stripping off the Death Eater robes to reveal her normal clothes underneath. "I´m going to see Arthur Weasley. This is news that should be delivered in person."

She glanced over at Sirius. He was puffing away on his cigarette, his eyes distant.

"Looks like your rookie bit off more than he could chew," Frank said.

"He was fine till he saw Weasley," she replied. "They were close at Hogwarts."

"It´s always harder when you know the person."

Zenobia didn´t say anything.

* * *

"You didn´t have to come," Zenobia said. She was deeply worried about her partner, for this was a great deal to take on in one mission.

"I want to be here. I´m fine."

They walked up the dirt path to the Weasleys two-story house. It was a bit dilapidated but homey nonetheless. There was a small garden under the front windows that played host to not only traditional flowers, but a fair few magical herbs and spices. A fairly new sign was standing in the front yard that read "The Burrow".

Zenobia had the traditional form letter they usually sent to relatives of casualties. She hated that practice. It was the most impersonal thing to do in that type of situation.

She glanced sideways at Sirius before she knocked on the door. Her usually talkative partner had been reduced to a silent shell of himself. He still looked incredibly pail, his arms covered in tiny goosebumps.

A very pregnant Molly Weasley answered the door, a child with flaming red hair in her arms. Even in this the most serious of times, Zenobia still thought that in a way she resembled a young Mrs. Claus. The plump and energetic woman never ceased to have a smile on her face.

"Miss Mills, Sirius?" she looked perplexed.

"Hello Molly," Zenobia said. "Is your husband home? We were hoping to talk to the both of you together."

"He´s here, I´ll fetch him," Molly answered. "Please, do come in."

They walked through the door, passing by the stairs and into the Family Room.

"I´m going to put Percy here to bed also, if you´ll just give me a couple minutes," Molly said.

"Of course," Zenobia said. She gazed around the Family Room. It smelled distinctly of butterscotch toffees and tea. Everything in the room was well worn from the coats hanging on a coat rack near the door, to the sofa where the upholstery was worn so much in spots you could see the foam stuffing beneath. There was a clock on the wall with five hands on it listing the names of the immediate Weasley family: Molly, Arthur, Bill, Charlie and Percy.

"We´re expecting to add two more hands to that clock in a couple weeks," said a voice from the doorway.

Sirius turned to face Arthur Weasley. He stood an inch shorter than Sirius, with red hair just like his wife and his son. He was clearly still dressed in his work clothes, a set of used and patches office robes. "Two?"

"Yes, Molly is expecting twins this time," he said.

"That´s wonderful Arthur," Zenobia said.

Molly returned and took a seat next to her husband. She shifted her eyes from Sirius to Zenobia and back, clearly impatient.

"I only wish the tidings I came with this evening could be good ones," Zenobia said, her voice even.

Sirius lowered himself weakly into an armchair.

Arthur took his wife´s hand. "Go on."

"I´m very saddened to tell you that your sister Mirabelle passed away this evening," she said. He gave a dry choke, but did not interrupt her. "She was hit by the Killing Curse during a Ministry of Magic raid."

"How can that be?" Molly asked. She clenched her husbands hand so hard that he visibly winced. "She worked a desk job. She answered Floo fires and delivered mail, why would she be involved in a raid?"

"Unfortunately, she was not participating on the Ministry end of the raid," Zenobia answered. "I´m sorry to say, especially at a time like this, that Mirabelle was a Death Eater."

Zenobia felt her stomach twist as their faces moved swiftly from sad to shocked then back to sad again.

"You´re sure?" Arthur asked, in a weak voice.

"I´m afraid so."

That was when the tears flowed. She had to stand, straight tall and unyielding as the couple before her wept. She alternated between clenching her hands into fists and biting her tongue to keep herself in check.

Sirius was rocking slightly in his chair, his eyes fixed on some point on the floor in front of him. He blinked back tears insolently.

"She´s watched the children before," Molly gasped. "A Death Eater, my poor babies." She leapt from her seat and rushed from the room. They could hear her irrational sobs fading as she sprinted up the stairs.

Arthur stood, wiping tears from his eyes with an old tattered hankercheif.

"I thank you for coming all this way to tell us," Arthur said.

"I wouldn´t have let you find out any other way," Zenobia said. Arthur walked them to the door.

"If there is ever anything you need, don´t hesitate to contact me," Zenobia said, as they stepped out of the door.

"I appreciate that," he said. "Good night to you both."

"How can you do it?" Sirius said. They walked back down the path away from the Weasleys. "How can you just stand there, cold as ice, not caring that that women has died?"

"Is that what you think?" She turned to look at him, he had tears streaming silently down his face. "That I don´t care?"

"That is what it looks like."

"Well you are dead wrong. There is just no point in crying. Crying won´t bring that girl back. Weeping won´t bring down Lord Voldemort. Emotions are overrated, Sirius."

"Were you ever a normal human?" he asked.

She paused for a moment, gazing up at the stars in the sky in silent contemplation. "I´m sure I was at some point."

Sirius shook his head. "I just don´t understand you, Zen." He disapparated with a faint pop.

"That makes two of us."

* * *

"How is everything going?" Zenobia had aparrated back to the office and was now standing in a room with Frank Longbottom.

They were standing in the observation room. It looked just as one would imagine based on lame Holly wood cop movies, a fairly empty room with a table and chairs. One wall was transparent so that you could see through to the Interogation room next door where Alastor Moody was interrogating the nameless Death Eater.

"Not very smoothly," Frank answered. "All we´ve gotten out of this fellow is that he is an American. And really the only reason we know that is because we deactivated the spell he was using to alter his voice."

"But he won´t tell us anything?"

"No," Frank said, sounding annoyed. "Bloody Americans, traveling all this way to join You-Know-Who? How ridiculous!"

"Let´s toss him in Azkaban for a couple days," Zenobia said. "See if perhaps then he´ll want to chat more."

Frank nodded. "You know the press wants to talk to you," he said.

"Tell me something new," she replied.

"Do you want me to deal with them?" Frank was gazing at her with concern. "You look like you could use some sleep."

"No, I´ll handle them," she said. "And then I will go."

* * *

Sirius was standing alone in his filthy excuse for a kitchen. There were dishes piled high in the sink, and food containers left open on the counter. What should have been white floor-tile had mysteriously turned off-white. He poured a liberal amount of vodka into a glass. He took a long sip of it before adding even more.

He took both the glass and the bottle with him and collapsed on his couch.

Sirius lived, basically, alone. His roommate happened to be James, and James tended to stay with Lily at her flat the majority of the time. So there was no one in the apartment other than Sirius.

The room he was in was probably the only clean room in the house, simply because Sirius never spent much time lounging on his couch. If he was in the house he was eating, sleeping, or showering. Therefore, in his bachelor´s mind, there was no need to clean.

While his tears had subsided, his pain had not.

Mirabelle Weasley had been one of the first Gryffindors that Sirius had met at Hogwarts. He had, of course, known James since he was young, but aside from that when Sirius boarded the train he did not know anyone.

Mirabelle Weasley had been the first student to pay him any mind.

She was two years ahead of the rest of them. Quiet and bookish, she rarely stood out.

Sirius had become enamored with her instantly. Mirabelle was the exact opposite of Sirius, and that only made him want her more.

He´d held a flame for her for years, and they dated briefly in Sirius´ fifth year, but in the end things didn´t work out. Mirabelle had graduated and Sirius had moved on to girls in his own year.

He had not really seen her since, but he had never forgotten her.

Sirius poured himself another drink, not really noticing that the bottle that had been full an hour ago was now half empty.

He drank further, remembering the look on her face as she lay there dead at his feet. He had just lit a cigarette when he heard the knock on the door.

Zenobia wasn´t entirely sure how to react when he opened the door. He looked a mess. His hair was sticking up at odd angles, his robes were twisted, and he wreaked of alcohol.

"Hi Zenobia!" He was slurring his words. He stumbled backwards and fell.

"Jesus, Sirius." She shut the door behind her, stepping on his fallen cigarette to put it out. It left a black smear on the hardwood floor.

He struggled to his feet, leaning on the back of the couch to stay standing.

"Did you drink all of this?" she asked, holding up the now-empty bottle.

"Probably." He shrugged and promptly fell over again. This time falling over the back of the couch and landing on the floor on the other side. "What are you doing here anyways?"

"I came to check on you," Zenobia answered. "I wasn´t sure how you were coping."

"I am coping just fine."

"I can see that."

She reached down and helped him to his feet.

"Where is your flat-mate, anyhow?" she asked, slowly walking him towards the bathroom.

"He´s at Lily´s, he´s always at Lily´s," he mumbled. "Not that I blame him. If I had someone, I´d spend as much time with them as I could."

"You will be able to someday."

"You mean like you do?"

"You are lucky you are drunk, because I´m letting that comment slide," she said.

She helped him lean on the sink, splashing cold water on his face. His hands gripped the ledge of the sink so hard that his knuckles were turning white.

"There was a time when I was in love with Mirabelle," he said. He was staring at his reflection in the mirror, his bloodshot eyes widened.

"I know, Sirius. I know."

"How could she be a Death Eater? Did I really not know the real her?" he asked. He was probably more coherent than he should have been. His torso began to shake as tears surfaced again.

"I think you knew her then. Maybe she just changed." She had to pull fairly hard to coax him to let go of the sink and shift his weight back to her.

"Which room is yours?" He pointed left and she led him through his bedroom door. She had to tread carefully over the many objects and articles of clothing strewn across his floor.

"I didn´t know you actually cared," Sirius said, as he curled up in his bed.

"I care, I´m just not always good at showing it." She pulled the blankets over him in almost a motherly fashion.

"I´m sorry if what I said earlier upset you."

"Don´t worry about it," she said, turning off the light. "I´ll check on you in the morning."

"Goodnight, Zen."

"Goodnight, Sirius."

She ventured into the kitchen and poured whatever vodka was left in his glass down the sink before apparating to the street in front of her apartment.

Each of the steps in the stairwell leading up to her room creaked as she put her weight on them. She did not dare touch the banister that threatened to break loose and send wood splinters raining down the stairs.

Zenobia´s apartment could be viewed as sparse to many, but to her it was cozy. Decorated in light earth tones that nicely complemented their inhabitants practical nature. The kitchen was spotless, the bathroom well scrubbed, the bedroom tidy. This was usually a thing of pride for her, but now it was blinding her from every angle. The biggest reminder that she lived there alone, and with no companionship, she cleaned to occupy her time.

She changed into her nightclothes in complete darkness, tossing her robes on the floor before slipping into bed.

"If I had someone, I´d spend as much time with them as I could."

"You will be able to someday."

"You mean like you do?"

She rolled over, hugging a pillow to her body. Burying her face in its soft case.

"Were you ever a normal human?"

She pulled her covers tighter around her body, the words echoing in her head, mocking her.

Tears stung her eyes, and she tried in vain to blink them back.

"Crying won´t bring that girl back. Weeping won´t bring down Lord Voldemort. Emotions are overrated."

Zenobia broke down then, crying herself to sleep in the loneliness of her empty bed.

* * *

As the sun rose, light began to peek through the blinds in Sirius' bedroom. He opened his eyes a crack and nearly screamed in pain.

He was sure that this was the worst hangover he had ever had in his life. He pinched his eyes closed, but his eyelids were glowing red despite his efforts.

He rolled over, pulling his covers over his head.

Sirius wasn't entirely sure how much he had drank, but he knew it had not accomplished what he wanted. He had not forgotten the raid.

He would have been content to stay in bed all day. Unfortunately though, fate had other plans. There was a series of sharp knocks on his front door.

"I'm not here," he shouted, and promptly winced at the sound of his own voice.

"Right, I suppose I'll just have to demolish this door to get in then," Zenobia called back. "I'm sure your landlady would greatly appreciate that."

She smiled to herself as she heard his bare feet padding across the hard wood floor.

Sirius looked worse than he had the night before. His clothes were wrinkled, his hair was wild, and he wore an expression that looked as if someone was bashing him in the head with a hammer.

"How's the hangover?" she asked, walking past him and into the apartment.

"I don't have a hangover," he said.

"Of course not," she said. "Then you won't mind if we just get straight to work."

"Okay, it's excruciating," he said, though reluctantly.

"That's what I thought," she said. She sat the paper grocery bag she was carrying on his kitchen counter, shoving a pile of dirty plates aside to make room. "So you go shower, and I'll make you something for that headache."

Sirius didn't argue; he trudged off towards the bathroom without another word.

Zenobia began to methodically unpack the ingredients contained in the bag. She propped her portable cauldron on a stand in the center of the counter. She filled it with Nile river water from a thick glass bottle.

She began to skin one of the two shrivelfigs that she had purchased while the water heated to a boil. Once the water began to bubble, she scooped a number of mermaid's scales into the cauldron. She then moved on to the second shrivelfig.

After they were both skinned, she crushed them thoroughly with her pestle and dumped the resulting mush into the potion. It turned a bright, almost fluorescent, green as she stirred it.

When Sirius emerged from the bathroom in fresh robes and damp hair, Zenobia was bent over, chopping up elderflower stems into fine, even pieces.

He looked warily into the cauldron. "Do I want to know what is in this?" he asked.

"Probably not," she answered, sliding the chopped stems off of her cutting board and into the cauldron. It sizzled and promptly turned the color of split pea soup.

"Do I have to drink this?" he asked.

"It will make you feel like a new man," she said. "Well, at least a man without a hangover." She smiled as she ladled some of the potion into a self-cooling glass.

Sirius plugged his nose and chugged the contents. He pulled a disgusted face. "Tastes like seafood."

"That would be the squid heart," she said. He looked like he was about to puke the potion back up. "I'm joking. Just give it a second to work."

Zenobia proceeded to bottle the remainder of the potion. She was packing up her potion-making equipment when Sirius felt the full effect of her creation.

"Wow!" he exclaimed. "It's gone."

"Of course it is," Zenobia answered. "Zen's Famous Hangover Cure: formulated during years of late drinking nights and early morning headaches."

She placed carefully bottled potion in his fridge.

"And now we have work to do."

"On a Saturday?"

"Yes," she answered. "We've got to follow up for the raid. And the sooner we start, the sooner we can finish."

Zenobia pulled out her user-dependant Portkey. Whereas most Portkeys were timed and merely transported whoever was touching it at its designated time, a user-dependant Portkey would transport you to that designated location whenever you wanted it to.

Zenobia's looked like a smoothed-over golden stone, with an indentation in the middle of it. Sirius grabbed her arm as she pressed her thumb into this dimple.

The Aurors were used to this form of travel by now. It was the easiest way to get to Zenobia's office. Apparition was not allowed into the Ministry building, so these user-dependant Portkeys had been issued to top Ministry executives and Head Aurors.

No sooner had they arrived when Frank Longbottom popped his head into Zenobia's office.

"Excellent, you are both here," he said. "I had a feeling you'd come, even though I told you to stay home and rest.

Sirius looked scandalized. "I could have stayed home and slept?"

"He needs to see how we follow up missions like last night's raid," she said.

"Right you are," Frank said. "Right now we are still talking to Weasley's co-workers."

"How bad is it?" she asked.

"So far not too severe," Frank answered. "She knew about the Auror convention we were planning for April, so we'll have to reschedule and pick a new location. But she was low enough on the totem pole not to be too large of a leak."

"And the Death Eater?"

"In Azkaban, as requested."

She nodded. "We'll have to pay him a visit on Monday," she said.

Sirius perked up visibly, his eyes alight with curiosity. "We're going to visit Azkaban?"

"Right when I start to forget you are a rookie, you do something to remind me," Frank said, laughing.

"I've always wanted to visit Azkaban," Sirius said. "I've always wanted to see the Dementors."

"You will be singing a different tune come Monday evening," Zenobia said.

They made the rest of their way to Frank's office in quiet contemplation. Frank held the door open for them, closing and locking it behind them.

Strewn across a table to their right was an odd array of objects.

"This is everything we recovered from the bar," he said. "Unfortunately, none of it is much use to us."

Zenobia examined some of the objects: magically marked playing cards, a bottle of love potion, a pile of old and yellowed Daily Prophets, some eyeglasses, some quills, and even more useless junk.

She sighed. "I wasn't really expecting to find much," she said. "The Death Eater will be our only resource."

"When is your meeting with The Old Man?" Frank asked.

"Wednesday," she answered. "We'll know our next move by Wednesday."

* * *

"You look tired," James commented as Sirius walked into his flat.

James was lounging on the couch as if he'd been there for hours.

"What're you doing here?" Sirius asked.

"I live here," James answered, trying to look offended.

"If by living here you mean 'coming over whenever you run out of clothes at Lily's'," Sirius said, smiling.

"Actually, this time I fled the Great Invitation War," James admitted. "Her mother is over there and they are fighting over whether or not to invite Petunia."

"Her bitch of a sister?"

"The one and only," James answered. "Lily doesn't want her there, not that I blame her. But Mrs. Evans maintains that family is family and her sister has to be invited. I fled to avoid being forced to pick a side."

Sirius collapsed into the leather armchair across from the couch. "Why would Petunia want to come? I thought she hated anything associated with magic."

"She does. Let's not go back into the Muggle versus Magic wedding argument," James groaned.

Sirius laughed. "I thought you handled that argument fairly well." He took on his best James Potter voice: "I'm not a Muggle, and my fiancée is not a Muggle, so why would we want a Muggle wedding?"

"Her mother wouldn't talk to me for a week."

"But in the end you didn't have to get married at some dinky Muggle chapel without protective wards or anything."

"Two years ago, we wouldn't have needed wards," James said. He ran his fingers through his unruly hair, and released a long sigh. "I can't believe I'm getting married in three weeks."

"Not getting cold feet, are you?" There was an underlying tone of sarcasm in Sirius' voice, but James frowned.

"No. I love her. I've always loved her," he said, looking down at his hands. "I just feel like we shouldn't be focusing on things like bridemaids' gowns and wedding invitations at a time like this."

"James, if we stop living, then we let him win."

* * *

There was something amazingly comfortable about applying Muggle makeup. Zenobia found the delicate complexity of it almost reassuring.

On any normal day, she would wear minimal makeup: some light lipstick followed by a coat of mascara. But tonight she was doing herself over completely.

She couldn't remember the last time she had gone out on a Saturday night of her own free will. Let alone with a gentleman who she actually found attractive.

She finished up her make up with burgundy lipstick. A surge of butterflies seized control of her stomach as she glanced at the clock and realized that she would be meeting Remus at the Leaky Cauldron in fifteen minutes.

She took one last gaze at herself in the mirror before Disapparating.

* * *

Remus took a couple minutes to convince himself to approach her. She looked more beautiful than he'd remembered. Her long, wild hair was down and tamed into gentle waves. She was wearing a delicate pale blue dress that was cut low enough in the front to give him the tiniest peek of cleavage that served to quicken his pulse significantly.

"Good evening," he said, finally announcing his presence.

She smiled. "Good evening, Remus."

"You look... wonderful," he said.

She felt the skin on her cheeks warm as she blushed. He offered her his arm and they began strolling down Diagon Alley.

They passed by a stand of Daily Prophets. Zenobia was on the front page addressing a large rally of reporters. The Zenobia in the photograph looked annoyed, rolling her eyes at the reporters.

"Looks like you had an eventful night last night," Remus said.

"Unfortunately," she answered. She gazed sympathetically at the photograph. "I would have much preferred an evening more like this. Where are we off to tonight?"

"Oh, I don't know. We can eat at any of the restaurants," he said. "Whatever you are in the mood for."

"You're new at this aren't you?" she asked, turning to look at him, her dress making a gently swishing sound as she moved beneath it.

He flushed a light red. "Is it that obvious?"

"Only slightly." She was smiling in a reassuring way as they moved on.

She chose to eat at Josephine's an Italian restaurant on the northern end of the Alley. It had a homey atmosphere to it. The small tables were covered in checkered tablecloths. The tables had fake roses in plastic vases.

It was cheesy, and probably the least romantic place in the Alley, but Zenobia loved it.

"How was your week?" she asked, casually, unfolding a napkin and placing it gently over her crossed legs.

"Fine, store is kind of slow now that all the holiday vacationers have headed home once more," he answered. "Myra and I spend most of the day pretending to rearrange the stock in case the owner randomly drops by to see how we are doing."

"Myra is your co-worker I take it."

He nodded. "She's a good kid. She's been mad at me all month for having to be out a couple of days during our busiest time, the week right before Christmas."

"Oh, we had a full moon that week didn't we?"

Remus froze, gripping his glass of water hard. He didn't know what do. He didn't know what to say.

"Remus, are you okay?"

"Sirius told you?" he asked in a choked voice.

"You didn't realize I knew?" she asked calmly.

He shook his head. His eyes were wide and in them reflected both surprise and fright.

Zenobia placed a friendly hand on his arm. "Remus, I knew about that before I even met Sirius. It is in his permanent file because of the prank he pulled on Severus Snape in school." His grip on the glass loosened, and he finally looked at her.

"I'm sorry, I'm just not used to people knowing," he said. She smiled at him and his fear began to fade. She brushed a strand of her hair away from her face with a single finger and Remus began to wonder what it would be like to run his fingers through her dark mane. His eyes traveled along the curve of her neck, then followed the neckline of her dress down to-

"Have you heard of the Wolfsbane Potion?" she asked. Remus quickly moved his eyes back up to her face.

"Only rumors about the potion that can keep you sane during the full moon," he said. "But I assumed that was all it was: rumors."

She shook her head. "It exists, but it is complicated. And takes trial and error to get it to work flawlessly with each person's body chemistry." She explained. "I have access to the recipe."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm asking if you want to try it?" she asked. "I could make it for you every month until we get it right."

Part of his mind clicked on the fact that she was anticipating seeing him every month at least for a while. But the other part was starting to wonder what it would feel like to not lose his mind at every full moon.

"Yes, let's try it."

They chatted freely after that. Remus was no longer worried that he was putting up a front, she knew his secret and not only that, she didn't care.

He escorted her to her door this time. It felt more like an actual date this time because of it.

"I had a wonderful time," she said, turning to face him.

"So did I." He gazed down at her and smiled. She turned her face up, leaning towards him.

He leaned down, his lips a little more than an inch from her own, when he pulled back suddenly. He took her hand in his and kissed the back of it. Zenobia worked hard to hide her disappointment as he bid her good night and Disapparated.

Author's End Notes: Next chapter Zenobia and Sirius make a trip to Azkaban, a chat with the American Death Eater, and a meeting with Dumbledore.