The Black Star

The Black Star 10

August, 1995

Stella was frozen with shock. Her blood had turned into ice-water all of a sudden, penetrating all parts of her body and leaving her feeling numb with cold dread.

This wasn't happening. It just couldn't be true. Her breath was caught somewhere in her chest since her throat seemed to have undergone a crash-diet - it was so narrow she could hardly breathe. Stella leaned forward to examine the horrendous, incredible, impossible... white hair on her head in the mirror.

She stared at it with utter disbelief, but the hair failed to be impressed with those rarely seen expressions on her face and remained firmly where it was. Stella's horrified incredulity melted into frustrated anger as she ripped out the hair in a quick motion, looking at her reflection crossly.

"You are getting old," she told it, observing discontentedly the movements of her lips and the wrinkles that appeared on her face when she spoke.

Sure, every facial expression produces wrinkles, but Stella hadn't been aware of how many they actually were. Grimacing suddenly, she called herself to a halt. What on earth was she doing? There was so much real misery in the world outside and she was concerned about a few wrinkles and a white hair?

"It's getting downhill with you, Decartier," she admonished herself sternly. "You're vain like a primadonna which you're far from becoming. Get a grip on yourself!"

That helped her a little, but it didn't stop Stella from ordering some Beauty Charms from La Bellissima, an Italian cosmetic label for witches. She would stop getting worked up about her deteriorating appearance, but surely there was nothing wrong with trying to counteract the aging process with all the means you had at your disposal, was it?

Once again, Stella thanked her fate for providing her with enough money to be able to afford such little comforts of life. She had grown up largely among people who had been convinced that material wealth didn't really matter - a typical Gryffindor belief which Stella used to have herself until real life found her after her graduation from Hogwarts and taught her that material wealth did not only make your life more pleasant usually but that it was, in fact, one of the moving forces of society. Money very often equalled power.

Stella remembered well how disillusioned and disgusted she'd been at that discovery, partly of the fact itself and partly of her own naïveté. It had dawned on her how protected or rather isolated from the real life she had been at Hogwarts. It had been difficult times, demanding resourcefulness, alertness and adaptability, but somehow - and not without a great deal of help from numerous acquaintances and of course, her friends, she had managed to find her place in society. Sometimes, Stella wondered about how exactly she had accomplished that task without cracking up in the process. But then again, that had been the time where she had had Sirius and Remus on her sides. The time Lily and James had been alive. Stella let the memories linger for a moment to savour a little in them, but after a short while she pushed them firmly away, into the section of her brain where she kept those and similar remembrances treasured and protected like crown jewels.

There had been enough of recollection. It was time for business. She rose from her chair and left her office for the Portkey Hall to get a Portkey to London where she was supposed to meet an informant in the Dancing Dragon. As a security measure, the fireplaces in the Black Star headquarters weren't connected to the Floo Network and since Apparating over such large distances was too straining, the only viable alternative of getting away from the HQ (for the access, the employees had the Crossing Spell) were the Portkeys, which worked outside the HQ grounds. The Portkey Hall would certainly have looked very peculiar to strangers. There were shelves with hundreds of little objects that an unsuspecting would have classified as simple litter: scraps of parchment, broken quills, battered shoes, shoelaces, old bottles of ink,...

But however inconspicuous and useless all those tools might have seemed, they could take a person almost anywhere in the world. Stella was very proud of the Portkey Hall. Smiling with contentment to herself about this particular invention, she went over to the Guardian of the Portkeys, Paul Montgolfier, a Quebequois whom she was quite fond of because of his outgoing personality and friendly behaviour. His wife, the subject of his adoration as far as Stella knew, was certainly a very lucky person.

Paul directed his brown gaze and a light smile to his superior and addressed her in French.

"Bonjour, Stella. Comment pourrais-je vous servir?"

Stella returned his smile, replying in French which she had learned in early childhood due to her father's trying, who had been from Quebec as well, "Je dois aller à Londres, Paul. Pouvez-vous me pourvoir de quelquechose d'utile là?"

Her inferior nodded and summoned and summoned something that looked suspiciously like an empty packet of condoms. Stella's eyebrows went up to her hairline as she took the proffered Portkey. Witches and wizards normally used various magical means of contraception, but they weren't unfamiliar with the Muggle means, either.

Paul grinned, faking an apologetic shrug and saying that this had been the last one in store for London that day as those particular Portkeys were always very in demand.

"Bon voyage," he said with a twinkle in his dark eyes at Stella's now faintly amused expression.

Nodding thanks, she left the Portkey Hall swiftly and made her way out of the building and across the grounds, shivering slightly at the freezing temperatures.

One good thing about London, she thought dryly while whirling away in the Portkey process. It's always warmer than here, if nothing else.

***

Harry woke up slowly, stretching like a cat and enjoying the feeling of leaving the realm of sleep in a place where he could welcome every new day and not feel nauseated like at the Dursley's. A brief glance at his watch informed him that it was already past nine o'clock which was an unusual time for him to wake up. Harry was a morning person.

He looked over to Ron's bed which was opposite his and saw that his friend was still fast asleep, wearing a look of deep contentment on his face. The reason for such an expression Harry could only guess. However, the murmured words that escaped from Ron's half-opened mouth suggested he was dreaming about Quidditch - not very surprising, as far as Harry was

concerned.

Deciding not to end his friend's apparent Quidditch-success abruptly by waking him, Harry resolved to go downstairs and have breakfast alone. Alone was of course a relative term; he assumed that Remus and Hermione, possibly even Sirius would be awake already. However, as he was putting on a T-shirt, Ron began to stir and opening one eye, regarded his black-haired friend sleepily.

"Where you goin'?" he asked, yawning.

"Downstairs, I'm starving," Harry replied while trying to find his socks.

Ron nodded and stretched much the same way the other boy had done before. "Wait a sec, I'll come with you."

He rose from his bed and had just started dressing when a glance out of the window stopped him in mid-movement. Ron turned to his friend with sparkling eyes.

"Have you looked outside already?" he asked enthusiastically. "The perfect weather for Quidditch, if you ask me. We gotta make use of it, what d'you think?"

Harry gave him a crooked smile. "I'd like nothing better. But don't you remember what Hermione said yesterday?"

"No, I forgot, what was it?" Ron asked, unperturbed by his lack of information.

Harry had found his socks at last and while bending down to put them on, he answered, sounding less than thrilled, "She wants us to begin with our holiday homework today, because else, as she put it, we wouldn't start until the last day of summer break and nothing would get finished. I think she's exaggerating. We don't do that, after all, now do we?"

"Speak for yourself, Harry," Ron replied, grinning because something had occurred to him. "Look, we can as well start in the afternoon, can't we? But until lunch, time will belong to Quidditch. I'm sure Sirius will agree with us on that one."

Harry grinned back. "He will."

They descended the stairs and made their way into the dining hall where, to their great bewilderment, they found Sirius who had water dripping from his clothes and an air of mingled amusement and annoyance around him.

"You have a very unique way of taking your morning shower, Sirius," Ron remarked, cocking one eyebrow.

"I suppose so," the older man answered with a crooked grin. "Must give Remus my thanks for upholding my individuality."

"Why did he do that, anyway?" Harry asked while the two boys took seats and helped themselves to toast and porridge respectively.

Sirius looked shifty. "No idea," he responded, not sounding convincing in the least.

Harry gave him a broad grin. "Right."

"Okay, okay," Sirius conceded. "I might've teased him somewhat."

Ron shook his head in feigned disbelief. "Can't be. Sirius Black, teasing someone? Unbelievable."

Sirius gave the red-headed boy an overly friendly smile. "Would you consider hexing more appropriate?" The words might have had a menacing undertone, but he grinned to show he was (at least partly) joking.

"No comment," Ron answered, giving Sirius a slightly suspicious look.

Grinning at their banter, Harry turned to his godfather to ask him whether he wanted to play Quidditch with the two boys after breakfast.

Sirius eyes lightened up at the prospect. "Sure."

"I suggest you be the Beater, since you played the position in school," Ron said. "I will be Keeper and Harry will play Chaser, alright?" He continued, throwing an inquiring glance at his friend.

Harry nodded to signify that he didn't mind and both boys returned to their breakfast while Sirius performed a Drying Spell on himself. He felt a surge of happiness flooding his mind as he succeeded in casting it without a wand. Azkaban was said to drain one's magical powers, but his didn't seem to have diminished, as far as he had had the chance to notice. Sirius didn't know why they had obviously remained largely intact, but he was very grateful since he had always prided himself on being quite a powerful wizard. Feeling content, which he rarely did in these times, he leaned back in his chair and waited, uncharacteristically patient, for the two boys to finish their breakfast.

***

Severus Snape strode purposefully through the hustle-bustle of Diagon Alley which was cramped with people as usual, feeling distinctly uneasy. Like Stella (which he was, of course, unaware of), he felt nervous and inhibited in crowds and therefore usually tried to avoid them. Diagon Alley, however, was always chock-full with witches and wizards, much to his chagrin and one of the reasons why he kept his visits of that particular part of magical London as rare as possible. Another damper on his already foul mood these days was the fact that despite that resolution of his, he had had to grace Diagon Alley with his presence quite a few times in the past two weeks, which was decidedly several times too much, in Severus' opinion. If at least the reason of his frequent visits had been pleasant, but no, he was forced to meet a woman he didn't like and report to her things he didn't want to revive in his mind so often. One would have thought that Dumbledore could pass the information on to Stella Decartier. But the Hogwarts Headmaster had requested that Severus kept her informed first-hand of what was going on in the Death Eater ranks and who was he to refuse the wish of the sole wizard who had ever trusted him after his desertion of the Circle and had given him a second chance? In spite of his partly Dark past, Severus Snape had a kind of a sense of honour which made him comply with Dumbledore's orders even if he was strongly opposed against them.

His eyes darted around, seeking out the sign of the Dancing Dragon and pausing as they found it, appreciating, as always, the delicate artwork of the dragon picture on the signboard. Severus wasn't overly fond of those animals, he preferred birds of prey and snakes, but nevertheless he could see the beauty and elegance that made that particular dragon breed, the Canadian Albine, so fascinating. With the usual feeling of being somehow pierced through by the dragon's red smouldering stare, Snape entered the pub and relaxed immediately. He had stopped wondering about why he felt so comfortable in the Dancing Dragon after his third visit without having ascertained the exact reason. Maybe the key factor was that the pub resembled Snape's dungeon quarters at Hogwarts. The ambiance was similar, though of course Snape couldn't pride himself on having a ceiling that looked like the sky with wind-harassed clouds in the colour range from ghostly white over silver, pewter and slate till black. You almost expected lightning bolts flashing over that unique ceiling, but as far as Severus knew, it never actually happened.

He was early. Snape told himself it was due to his extreme punctuality, but he had a feeling that he had unconsciously wanted some time for himself in this place he seemed to be magically drawn to, in a manner he couldn't explain and for a reason he couldn't discern.

That's the only good thing about a meeting with Decartier, Severus thought. This place.

Unhurriedly, he made his way to the bar with its bartender who looked too much like a vampire for Snape wanting to come any closer to him than four feet.

"One Morgan's Ache, double-shot of dragon-blood," he muttered and dug some silver coins out of his pocket as the bartender placed a high narrow glass full of purple and red liquid in front of the Hogwarts Potions Master.

Severus took his drink, trying not to think about the way the bartender had licked his lips, baring his teeth that had indeed seemed to be a little pointed in the process. Attempting and failing to convince himself that it must have been his overly lively imagination, Snape moved over to his favourite place in the farther corner of the main room where he had the best view of the place and the front door. "The best view" was, of course, a relative term since everything was immersed with the strange dim twilight so characteristic for this pub.

Slowly, Severus traced the edges of his table with his fingertips while enjoying the bittersweet liquid running down his throat and wondering once again what material the pub's interior was made of. It couldn't be black marble because it lacked the typical lighter patterns that permeated this particular sort of stone. Snape finally settled on obsidian, a pitch-black volcanic material. He consulted his watch and the two hands on the display informed him that he was supposed to meet the Head of Black Star in two minutes. He'd better start making his way towards the room they had always convened so far.

The door wasn't locked and Snape, preferring to wait sitting rather than standing like an idiot in the middle of the corridor, went in to take place at the lone table standing in the farther corner of the room. As he stepped in, he couldn't repress a surprised intake of breath for the torches in the chamber, ordinarily having their normal colour of red and gold, were silver and green instead.

What's that supposed to mean? he wondered, frowning while seating himself on one of the chairs. Of course, he couldn't know about Stella's colour preferences that could be called unheard of among Gryffindors and that's why he was quite confused. Could it be that she had let the torches be coloured that way for his benefit? Somehow, that sounded very unlikely to Severus' ears. He knew she didn't hate him like most of her friends back at school had done, but this would almost equal what? A sign of amicable behaviour, which would be most intriguing indeed. Snape couldn't imagine why Stella Decartier would want to be friendly towards him. Not that Severus minded her usual cool indifference and neither could he blame her for that - after all, he had almost caused her ex to be Dementor-kissed, the man she had loved and apparently still cared for very much, although Snape couldn't fathom why. As far as he could remember, Black and Decartier hadn't been able to stand each other first at Hogwarts and plus, he considered Sirius Black about as repulsive and insufferable as the other man regarded him. Severus didn't intend in the slightest to trouble himself with Decartier's attitude towards Black and himself, but nonetheless, he was curious why she had accepted him, Snape, as an agent so readily and why she didn't show any particular signs of hostility. Then again, he had Dumbledore on his side and he knew Stella highly respected her former Headmaster. Moreover, she had certainly had enough practice in dealing with people she didn't like and therefore could probably mask her disgust, contempt or whatever else quite well.

Not that it really matters, anyway, Severus thought lazily.

They had a business deal. Money in exchange for information. And now that she'd lost Wilkes (for Severus was quite sure that this had been Wilkes' 'petty rebellion' as Voldemort had termed it), she would need him even more. Maybe he should insist on a wage increase. But finally, Snape decided against that, telling himself that he didn't really need the money. He wouldn't admit, of course, that it was probably his grudging respect for Stella that had prevented him instead. This respect wasn't founded on her achievements concerning Black Star, however. Snape couldn't care less about that organization or about the people behind it. He was neither impressed by Stella's magical abilities nor by her appearance because she was not his type. But what he had to admire, albeit involuntarily, were her Potions skills that equalled his own, which was saying something. Snape knew he excelled in his expertise - that wasn't bragging, but a simple fact. He had found out by coincidence that she had published many articles, works and dissertations in various Potions magazines worldwide, under a different name, however, and he had to admit she had been, along with others, of course, one of the major influences in the recent development in the Magical Science of Potions. Yet Severus, never one to belittle his skills, was fairly sure he could have had just as much success and influence if he had attempted to publish some of his ideas and experiments.

Ah well. Maybe sometime later.

Curiously enough and unknown to Snape himself, Stella shared his view on that topic. She did recognize a real Potions Master when she met one and in her opinion, Severus Snape could be a famous one if he tried. But it was far from her to tell him that, even though his abilities had her reluctant admiration. She might have overcome her childish prejudices against Slytherins very long ago, but Severus Snape had been a Death Eater, after all and while she hadn't inquired about every single detail of the events of two years before when Sirius had escaped from Hogwarts on a Hippogriff, she could well imagine Snape had tried everything to do the worst possible harm to the man he hated with a passion. That was why she had settled on cool business-like behaviour. Indifference was always the safest way and it seemed that Snape agreed with her on that matter since their meetings passed usually in what you could term a polite fashion.

Severus looked up as Stella entered the room. She could see his eyes flickering almost imperceptibly from her to one of the torches and after a brief moment of bewilderment, she realized he had to be wondering what the unusual colouring meant. She hadn't thought of the Slytherin house colours when she had had the torches lit before, but as the Head of Slytherin, Snape was bound to associate them with his House at once and wonder what the purpose of the change had been.

Well, let him wonder a little, Stella thought mischievously, might be good for him if he doesn't always know everything immediately.

She grinned at the pale, dark-haired man in front of her and asked sweetly, "I see you appreciate the new system of lighting?"

Snape showed no reaction as he swung his gaze with pointed indifference to the torches.

"Ah," he responded with the same interest as if she had just announced the cousin of her grand-uncle had broken a fingernail yesterday. "I haven't really noticed."

At that, Stella felt vaguely impressed how he managed to make such a downright lie sound so convincing. She let her lips curl into a equable, unhurried smile and approached the table, all the while trying carefully not to trip over or bump into a chair as it sometimes happened when she was nervous. Because now, despite her serene outward appearance, her intestines seemed to be fluttering around like caged birds in the immediate vicinity of a hungry cat. Snape's presence seemed to evoke some sort of long-forgotten uneasiness she used to feel around people back when her self-confidence had been much lower. She had heard of Wilkes' death already, which only added to her uncertainty and she suspected that Snape knew he would be bringing her no news. Stella peered into his face to detect some signs of superiority and smugness about the fact that now she could rely only on him if she wanted first-hand, quality information about the Death Eater Circle.

Snape gazed back impassively, his face not giving away anything. Stella groaned inwardly of frustration. She had no desire whatsoever to talk to this man, much less about a topic that disturbing. However, she needed to know what was going on and therefore she sat down on a chair opposite of Severus and started her cross-examination, meticulously asking about every detail he could remember.

After Snape had finished his report, Stella leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes for a moment, trying to forget the headache that was enveloping her brain like an iron band and attempting instead to combine all the facts she had at her disposal.

Didn't Sean say something about an artefact having been stolen from the wizarding museum of Egypt?

Stella was positive it was the mysterious thing Malfoy and Wormtail had had to acquire for Voldemort. Snape supported her opinion when she voiced her suspicion in front of him because he thought it made sense. He recalled Lucius complaining about unbearable heat and, as he had put it, 'that damned incomprehensible language'. More importantly, he had mentioned the name of the stolen tool after the meeting when Severus had paid a visit to Malfoy Manor - the Pendant of Perdition. Apparently, Voldemort hadn't demanded absolute discretion amongst the Death Eater ranks concerning that pendant.

"The artefact is supposed to bring bad luck over its bearer," Stella mused, recalling what Sean had told her and regarding Snape's blank face with her narrowed, thoughtful eyes. "What use would he have for an object so moderately cursed? I mean, he could make that sort of thing more easily by himself."

Severus gave a one-shouldered shrug, tilting his head slightly to one side at the same time, a combination of movements Stella had come to know as characteristic about him. More than that, she found those particular motions kind of cute, which was, of course, irrelevant here. Besides, she had more important things to bear in mind than any of Snape's gestures, however attractive they might be.

"I assume this is not the sole function of that artefact," Severus said.

Stella nodded. "You're probably right. I shall make a research on it. How was it called again?"

"Pendant of Perdition," Snape answered with a twinge of annoyance at the fact that she apparently hadn't been listening properly and now had him repeat his words.

But then he spotted one side of her mouth curling up with mischief and realized she had irritated him deliberately while knowing the name perfectly well. Since there was no logical reason for such an action in the moment, he assumed that this was her hidden hostility shining through the armour of indifference. However, his assumption wasn't accurate. After yet another frustrating day, Stella had needed to lighten up her mood a little and since she had always found Snape's sour expression quite funny, she had seized the opportunity to tease him. With a grin, she bid him goodbye and left the room, expecting Snape to make his way to the bar again as he usually did after their meetings.

***

"So there's more behind this Pendant of Perdition," Sean said.

It was a statement, not a question.

Stella nodded. Having returned to the HQ from London, she had consulted her two Prime Generals immediately and both Sean and Amanda didn't think the suspicion of Voldemort having greater plans with a seemingly harmless artefact was groundless. Stella felt rather bad that she hadn't let somebody investigate thoroughly in the whole pendant-business, but as she was the Head of a spying organization, her other commitments had pushed the artefact a little into background.

Sean rose form his seat opposite Stella's.

"I shall pay a visit to the Cursed Objects Section in our library, then," he announced before Teleporting himself away, leaving the two women behind.

After he was gone, Amanda turned her gaze on Stella and smiled conspiratorially.

"The thing you wanted arrived just after you'd parted for London," she told her cousin, raising her eye-brows meaningfully.

Stella frowned with confusion, trying to guess what Amanda was referring to. "Erm..."

However, comprehension dawned on her as her cousin placed a narrow black box on Stella's desk.

An iron curtain of dispassion descended on Stella's face as she took the box. Amanda, however, wasn't fooled in the least. Of course, she couldn't hear Stella's heartbeats accelerating at the thought of the box's content, but she did notice her superior's hands trembling almost imperceptibly.

"Are you going to deliver it to him personally?" Amanda asked slyly, not able to hide a small grin as she continued. "You ought to. Precious things shouldn't be entrusted to simple birds."

Stella shot her an irritated glance. "You can trust me to have this delivered safely to the right hands, one way or the other, Amanda."

Her cousin shrugged innocently. "Just saying."

Stella didn't answer. She was trailing the edges of the box with her fingers, seemingly lost in thoughts and so she didn't even look up as Amanda, being considerate for once, left the office.

But she had been right. The content of the box was indeed precious, in fact, it was Sirius Black's wand, more exactly a replica thereof since the original one had been broken into pieces at the moment of his incarceration and locked away into a little 'cell' of its own.

Every official wandmaker is provided with a list of wands he is forbidden to recreate - wands of criminals, mostly. Of course, as a mage changed, so did his or her wand preferences. It was a rare occasion on which one wand lasted for an entire lifetime. But the old wands still fit better than random ones and this special prohibition was supposed to make it harder for wizarding criminals at large to have their wand duplication ordered by an accomplice. They had to either go to a wand-shop to choose by themselves or get a wrong wand chosen by someone else or remain completely wandless. Stella was quite sure Sirius hadn't been able to purchase a new wand yet. She was fairly certain he was doing fine without one, too, since he had always been good at wandless magic, but she could well imagine that Sirius, an enthusiastic spell-caster, sorely missed using a wand and the power he had had at his disposal with its assistance.

That's why she had paid a visit to an old Sicilian wandmaker several days before. Cesare Bianco didn't always walk on the right side of the law, no matter if it concerned wand-making or other things. Moreover, he was an avid collector of wands of famous and even more the infamous witches and wizards. Both facts had been aces in Stella's sleeve as she had gone to talk to Cesare. If the promise of a nice sum of Galleons and the former wand of Argentina's most dangerous criminal wizard hadn't have been enough to buy Bianco's silent consent of reproducing Sirius Black's wand, she would have had to show off her 'knowledge' about some of his secret activities a little. But it hadn't been necessary. Cesare had been most delighted by his customer who had used all the charm inherited from her Italian mother to persuade the wandmaker to accept her payment for his services. Her efforts hadn't been in vain. The Sicilian had promised la belissima to send the wand to her in a few days, everything being strictly confidential, naturalmente!

After all, what did he care if he armed the supposedly most dangerous British wizard apart from Lord Voldemort with his wand?

It wasn't likely for Black to make some killing excursion to Sicily and Cesare was unscrupulous enough not to care about the British population in that aspect. He hadn't asked for the charming customer's name, but Stella's mastery of the Italian language had fooled him enough to think of her as one of his fellow citizens and had left him wondering mildly about why exactly an Italian witch - and a pretty and obviously wealthy one at that - might want to help a filthy British Azkaban escapee.

But Cesare wasn't somebody who's overly concerned with other people's motivations. He did, however, appreciate a good business partner and therefore had enclosed a short letter stating that he would be delighted to conclude business deals with her again if she was interested. Having finished reading, Stella put the letter away, smiling lightly to herself before her gaze fell onto the narrow box again.

Are you going to deliver it personally? Amanda's voice resounded in her brain.

Well, why not? It would be a pretext to pay Wolf's Castle a visit.

A pretext, yeah, but not a very good one, Stella thought resignedly and then shook her head slowly over her irrational desire of visiting Lupin's Lair. It was better to stay away from that spot, both for her and its current residents.

However, what would happen if she sent the box by owl and the bird got intercepted? The wand and the owl would be identified and traced back to her. And that, Stella decided, would be a severe scratch on her already battered trustworthiness.

****

"It's nice to see you, General Wraith." Donatella Miliano said, greeting her superior with a nod and a polite smile. "How can I help you?"

Sean flashed a bright smile in return, but Donatella's friendly yet strictly professional behaviour didn't change in the slightest. The Prime General suppressed a resigned sigh. This woman responded to his charms about as much as Voldemort might respond to the admonition of not to be such a bad guy and Sean had yet to find out why. He was used to women blushing under his gaze, staring after him, smiling seductively at him... But maybe his good looks were fading. Or perhaps this woman just didn't go for blondes.

After listening to Sean's request, Donatella vanished into the labyrinth of bookshelves, muttering research spells and left him waiting alone. She reappeared some ten minutes later, wearing an apologetic expression on her pretty features.

"I am sorry," she said. "But I fear there is no reference to a Pendant of Perdition in our library."

Sean frowned, displeased at the news. "Hm. Could you maybe recommend me a book outside this library that might contain the information I seek?"

Donatella's face became thoughtful. "The only one I can think of would be a tome written by Merlin himself. Hogwarts Library hosts it, as far as I know. There are no other copies, so you will have to request it from there."

Sean nodded. That shouldn't be a problem. Black Star and Hogwarts had a borrowing agreement when it came to their libraries. He turned around and was on the verge of leaving just as he remembered to ask for the title.

"Objects of Doom," Donatella said with a twinkle in her eyes that implied she was finding the title about as pathetic as Sean apparently did.

"Now that's cheerful," he commented, but the twinkle in Donatella's eyes had disappeared as swiftly as a Demiguise when you wanted to catch it. Sean gave a small sigh concerning Donatella's strict professionalism. Well. She hadn't been in Black Star for that long. Maybe the ice would break one day.

****

December, 1975

It was Stella's fifth year, which meant that she should be actually working a bit more for school as she was going to take her OWLs. However, that fact didn't seem to trouble her. Instead of writing a Transfigurations essay, she was sitting in her favourite armchair, the coziest one and nearest to the fire, engrossed in a tome she had found in the Library by accident, seeing that she had been originally looking for The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5, as her copy seemed to have vanished somehow. The book she had borrowed instead was called Objects of Salvation and was supposed to contain a reference to every positively enchanted object in the magical world that had ever been crafted and discovered. As she had been reading the text on the back of the tome, Stella found out that it had a negative equivalent, so to speak, which was called Objects of Doom. However, upon seeing that name, Stella was instantly sure that this one was in the Restricted Section and thus out of her current reach. She would be extremely interested to have a look at it, but as she had been caught by McGonagall in the Restricted Section without a pass note and got detention as well as severe reprimanding, she wasn't keen to be spotted anywhere in the vicinity of that place in the near future. It wouldn't do well in a CV if she was expelled without having even taken the OWLs. Of course, there existed other schools, but Stella had grown very fond of Hogwarts and would have been reluctant to leave it before the moment of her graduation.

She began to leaf through the book, passing artefacts like the Boots of Polarity and the Garniture of Interference, both offering magical resistance to the bearer. Stella wondered briefly if they negated every sort of magic. If so, then they would have to be really powerful. She also saw various pendants mentioned, like the Pendant of Free Will, which made the bearer immune to the Imperius Curse and the Pendant of Total Recall that would leave the bearer unaffected by any existing Memory Charm. After passing the Orb of Permanence, which had the effect of prolonging the duration of spells, Stella's eyes arrived at a paragraph that was dealing with three artefacts called Sentry Spheres.

The Sentry Spheres, comprising the Sphere of Sanctity, the Sphere of Salvation and the Sphere of Sacredness, whose whereabouts are currently unknown, were created by the ancient Greek wizard named Phaidros, who strove to put a halt to his evil contemporary Xenocrates, who, in turn, tried to seize the power on the Greek Isles with the help of an artefact on his own, namely the -

Suddenly, Stella felt the back of her neck tingling, a reliable indication that Black was once again gazing over her shoulder. He was doing this quite often these times, always seeming to want to know what she was reading and it made her really edgy. What the hell was he playing at?

She closed the book with a loud SNAP! and rounded on Sirius who was indeed standing behind her back and now looking slightly put out at the fact that she had made it impossible for him to read on.

"What?!" Stella snapped, annoyed that he always seemed to be lurking somewhere around her.

He made a reproachful face. "Why did you have to shut it? I was reading that."

"Don't give me that plaintive tone, it doesn't work on me. Anyway, what has made you think that I would allow you to read this book with me?"

Ignoring her, Sirius craned his neck to get a look at the front cover.

"Objects of Salvation, eh?" he smirked. "How melodramatic. I'm not surprised it's yours."

Stella narrowed her eyes. "Actually, I found it in the Hogwarts Library and well, tell me, Oh Ingenious One, how would you call a book that deals with positively enchanted objects?"

"What about The Compendium of Positively Enchanted Objects?" Sirius suggested, not entirely unreasonably, but Stella was having none of it.

"Not as expressive, is it?" she responded haughtily. "But I expected nothing else from someone like you."

"Someone like me?" Sirius repeated her words meditatively, his eyes getting one of the sort of glints Stella was almost instantly suspicious of. "What does that mean? It's awfully vague, Decartier, ma chère. Care to elaborate?"

Stella grimaced at him, ignoring his question. "Oh, please. Don't try to speak French, it sounds horrible coming out of your mouth."

"Fine," Sirius said, unbothered. "Teach me how to say it properly, then."

He leaned against the back of the armchair with crossed arms and grinned down on Stella who was beginning to feel rather weird. Now what was this about? Getting increased attention from Sirius Black couldn't possibly be good.

Confused, Stella forgot to give her next words the necessary sharpness. "Look, I'd really like to continue reading in peace. Why don't you just go away and leave me alone?" she said, startling herself as she realized how friendly she sounded.

Black, of course, noticed the unusually soft tone and took advantage of it. He left his position at the back of the chair and sat down on one of the armrest, thus getting unexpectedly close to Stella, who stared at him, her rising suspicion mingling with bewilderment.

She bent her head over the book to avoid his unflinching gaze and, muttered resignedly, feeling suddenly not quite up to fighting with him, "Just say what you want, Black and then leave me alone."

She heard rather than saw Sirius shaking his head. "I don't know what your problem is. I merely wanted to know what you were reading and then I asked you how to pronounce a French expression since I know you're fluent in that language. That can hardly be counted as a nuisance or something and you acted as if it was."

Stella raised her head and gazed into his face, intent on displaying an expression of intense dislike. She could only hope she had managed it, after all, she was still recovering from the confusion about Black's weird behaviour.

"You are nuisance impersonated, so don't be surprised when I want to get rid of you. Honestly, one would think that you've got the message already, judging by the times I had to stop you driving me crazy by reading over my shoulder in the past," she said sharply and was surprised as Sirius pressed his lips together and a fleeting look of affront at her words appeared on his face.

"Oh, I am infinitely sorry about my ghastly behaviour, Your Highness," he replied, sarcasm lacing his words. "Will you refrain from chaining me up in the dungeons if I swear on the lives of my unborn children that it will never happen again?"

He had stood up and his eyes were flashing dangerously. However, Stella had regained her grounds and refused to be intimidated.

"A simple promise will suffice, servant," she answered with a superior grin, watching with glee as Sirius turned on the heel wordlessly and headed out of the Common Room with angry strides.

****

August, 1995

Sean Teleported himself into Stella's office, making her flinch at his sudden appearance.

She raised her eyebrows inquiringly and then pressed her lips together in disappointment when her gaze fell on Sean's empty hands.

"No success, hm?" she asked quietly, her shoulders sagging.

Sean cocked his head slightly to the left side, eyeing his superior in bewilderment. Okay, the Pendant of Perdition was probably a key instrument in Voldemort's plan of gaining more power, but even so, Stella seemed uncharacteristically downcast about their lack of progress. Weird... unless she had something else to be depressed about.

Sean crossed the room and walked around Stella's desk to come standing behind her chair. He extended his hands and started massaging her neck, worrying not for the first time at its continual stiffness. Bending his head towards Stella's ear, he murmured softly, "What is troubling you so much, ma petite?"

She leaned her head against his tiredly and closed her eyes.

"Other than Voldemort's deeds and his plans that are still unknown to us and the constant fear about people I love, you mean?" she asked, letting bitterness permeate her voice, which rarely happened. "I hate having no clue whatsoever... being so helpless," she continued wearily.

Sean attempted to give his voice a reassuring tone. "We won't be clueless much longer. Signorina Miliano told me there should be a reference to the Pendant of Perdition in Objects of Doom which is in Hogwarts Library. All we have to do is to contact Madam Pince and request the book. I'm sure we will learn the relevant facts about that artefact with its help."

Stella sighed, unconvinced. "Wish I had your confidence," she said listlessly, extracting herself from Sean's half-embrace and walked over to the fireplace. "I shall talk to Pince, then."

Her tone implied Sean's dismissal and so he left, refraining from asking her about the real reason for her subdued mood. His gaze slid over the narrow black box on Stella's desk, but as he didn't know she had ordered Sirius's wand, Sean didn't place the presence of the box in any context with Stella's behaviour. Very unlike himself, he used the door to leave the office, closing it carefully so as not to disturb his friend who was waiting for the connection between the Black Star Headquarters and Hogwarts to establish itself.

***

Sirius was lying sprawled on his favourite sofa in Remus' drawing room, humming Muggle songs, now considered as oldies, to himself, engrossed in Objects of Doom that Remus had so kindly obtained for him. The 'Lord of Lupin's Lair' was currently busying himself in the kitchen and since he had refused to let Sirius help him on the grounds that he would have eaten the food before it would even be ready, Sirius had had to find something to occupy himself with. The kids were no go because they were doing their holiday homework.

Sirius snorted disbelievingly. Homework! On such a wonderful, sunny day!

Evidently, Hermione was the dominant person in the Trio.

Shaking his head, Sirius concentrated on his book again. It had taken him awhile to get to the Pendant of Perdition because he couldn't resist reading about most of the cursed objects preceding the one he had been originally looking for. He passed the 'Hourglass of the Evil Hour', a minor artefact that brought bad luck over the bearer and the 'Orb of Vulnerability' that made the opponent's Protection Spells and Shielding Charms useless in a duel. The latter was a relic and its whereabouts were currently unknown.

Having finally arrived at the P-section, Sirius found that there were quite a few Pendants - the 'Pendant of Dispassion', the 'Pendant of Insomnia' being just two of them. At last the page with the Pendant of Perdition lay before Sirius eyes. He bent closer to the rather short paragraph and read.

The Pendant of Perdition is believed to be a creation of Xenocrates, a Greek wizard of the first century B.C. who wanted to establish his power over the resident wizarding families of the Greek Isles with its help. The Pendant of Perdition, once activated, strips every magical protection from the people and buildings in its vicinity within minutes and makes it impossible to re-activate them for a certain period of time which is still unknown. The powers of this pendant aren't fully determined yet as the only clue to them is given by a manuscript of Xenocrates himself, which is kept rather vague. Xenocrates never actually had the chance to use this artefact, however, seeing that he died in a storm at the sea. The Pendant of Perdition sank with him and was believed to be lost until it appeared on the Egyptian coast centuries later. It has been claimed by the Egyptian wizarding museum and has been kept there ever since then.

The paragraph ended with that sentence and left Sirius sitting there, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. The Pendant made him nervous. Suppose you could take down any ward effortlessly within minutes and rid your opponents of any magical protection they might have on themselves. Suppose you would take advantage of that ability. Suppose you were Voldemort...

Sirius gave a small shudder. That was not a very reassuring prospect. Not reassuring at all.

But, Sirius reminded himself, the fact that it was stolen doesn't have to signify that it was Voldemort or his minions who did it. Still, I'll talk to Remus and see what he thinks about it. 'Cause frankly, I've quite a bad feeling about this.

He stood up and stretched, listening to the noises coming from the kitchen. Remus didn't sound finished yet, but that was fine with Sirius. It would give him the opportunity to make a short, relaxing stroll through the forest that surrounded Lupin's Lair before dinner.

****

"What do you mean, it's not available?" Stella snapped irritably at the face in the fire.

Madam Pince frowned at this assault, which gave her a rather menacing look and thus made Stella remember who she was talking to. The Hogwarts Librarian was one of the few people who commanded Stella's ultimate involuntary respect. As she met Madam Pince's steely gaze, Stella began to feel like a timid, unimportant first-year again.

She cursed herself for it, but that didn't help and so she amended herself with an apologetic look on her face, "Er, what I wanted to say is that, um, could you possibly tell me who has borrowed it?"

However, Madam Pince didn't look any less forbidding.

"Please?" Stella added as an afterthought, flashing her most charming smile and sighing inwardly with relief as Madam Pince answered grumpily that Ms Decartier was lucky to be in possession of Dumbledore's authorisation to have insight into such classified information.

"The book is currently at Mr. Remus Lupin's in..." she began, but Stella cut her off, unpleasantly surprised.

"I know where Mr. Lupin lives, thank you," she told the Librarian curtly. "Have a nice day."

The connection broke and Madam Pince went back to her work, shaking her head over certain people's bad temper and sheer incredible rudeness.

Stella remained seated in front of the fireplace, staring into the flames with furrowed brows. This couldn't possibly be a coincidence. Alright, Remus was a Defence Against the Dark Arts freak and it wasn't all that surprising he had borrowed a tome that was supposed to be the best compendium on Cursed Objects in Europe, but the fact that he had done it now suggested he might be trying to find out something about the Pendant of Perdition, too.

But why? Stella wondered. Would Remus know about the connection to Voldemort? Not all the members of Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix get all the information Albus himself has.

In fact, Stella privately thought that the Order was a little disorganised. But who was she to criticise? Her leading of Black Star couldn't be called well-organised, either. However, it worked well with her organization, a fact of which Stella wasn't sure when it came to the Order of the Phoenix. After all, she wouldn't be surprised if Remus had merely read the newspaper article about the robbery in the Egyptian wizarding museum and had got curious enough to investigate further.

Of course, there was a very direct way to find out - asking the man himself while retrieving the book.

Stella turned her gaze to the skies. "Why me? Why does this always happen to me?"

Seeing that she needed Objects of Doom as quickly as possible, she couldn't owl Remus, asking to send her the book immediately. Of course, she could order any of her employees to get it, but the less people knew the exact location of Lupin Castle and about its current residents, the better.

The only ones she could really ask to do it were Sean or Amanda and Stella was quite sure that both would refuse, telling her to confront her inner demons and feelings and not to be a coward, blah, blah. Amanda would certainly add that it would be a perfect occasion to bring Sirius his wand and the worst of all was that everything the two Prime Generals would say would be true and sensible.

How Stella hated to be sensible.

But on the plus side, she would see Harry again, whom she knew to be currently visiting his godfather and his former professor.

Stella had no idea whatsoever why her decision to grace Lupin's Lair with her presence was so firm all of a sudden. She had often thought about it in the past, but had never really got around to or rather, hadn't had the guts to do so.

Now, however, several reasons spoke for the trip and so Stella decided to conquer her fears and confront her unresolved past in the form of her once-best friend, her ex-lover and the son of her dead best girl-friend.

At those thoughts, Stella felt her determination begin to waver. Did she really want to see all those people again and face them?

"Sean...," she called through the Vocatus-net in such a small, miserable voice that her friend Teleported himself into her office immediately. After hearing Stella's account of her situation, he looked at her thoughtfully.

"Well...," he began and then let his voice become firm, tolerating no contradiction. "You will go, of course."

"Will I?" Stella seemed less than thrilled at the prospect.

"Yes," Sean confirmed, adamance personified. "You're a grown woman and therefore, you should be able to resolve your private problems alone, as we all do."

She gave him a sceptical glance. "If you say so."

He nodded. "I do say so. How will you travel?"

"Dunno... Portkey to London - again - and then broomstick, I guess," she answered, the lack of enthusiasm clearly showing through in her voice.

Sean gave her a cheerful smile. "A bit more spirit, please! You're not going to your execution!"

Stella threw him a dirty look. "Perhaps not, but if you continue to be so bloody cheerful, you will be!"

She grabbed the thin black box from her desk and Teleported herself away, leaving Sean, who was grinning to himself, alone in her office.

****

Stella's mind was void, but it wasn't an after-effect of the Portkey-trip she had just made.

Sitting in the Dancing Dragon, where all the Black Star- London- Portkeys led, she tried to concentrate on what she should do next. No success. Stella didn't seem to be able to collect her thoughts to craft even the most basic plan.

Getting to Lupin's Lair and meeting Remus and the kids wasn't much of a problem. She was quite sure she would manage that somehow. Sirius, on the other hand...

Of course, Stella couldn't even count the times she had imagined meeting him again in the past fourteen years. The occasions on which those meetings had taken place had been as various as Stella's and imaginary Sirius's behaviour.

She had played through so many scenarios that she had no idea how to behave at the actual meeting. Should she confront him with icy silence? Ignore him completely? Should she act as if he was an old friend who she happened to run into?Should she wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him breathless? Or should she curse him straight to hell?

Feeling completely at a loss what to do, Stella sipped her drink - an Albine's Breath, her favourite. It was silvery-blue, very cold and the vapour that ascended from it resembled the light-blue smoke that usually protruded from the nostrils of a Canadian Albine Dragon.

However, not even this King of Drinks helped Stella to decide how to behave towards Sirius.

Take half a glass of unresolved business, two teaspoons of anger, two of longing, a gist of resentment, a generous shot of fear and uncertainty and round it off nicely with some tablespoons of love, how many exactly, I don't know, Stella thought, and you'll get the Ultimate Drink Of The Situation. My situation, to be precise.

She eyed the now empty glass in her hand moodily and pondered whether to order Fireball, a highly... well, energizing drink. But then again, if she turned up at Lupin's Lair behaving like a lunatic monkey escaped from a circus, Sirius might not take her seriously. On the plus side, it would be a situation she hadn't imagined before.

Her common sense having finally got the better of her, Stella resolved to take off without another drink. She would be needing a clear mind for what was awaiting her.

****

Stella soared through the air, carefully covered by an Invisibility Spell and barely resisting the urge to sing. She had almost forgotten how freeing such a broomstick trip could be. If you concentrated only on the mere act of flying, the problems you had had looming over you like rain clouds would recede - however, only until you were on the ground again, of course.

After a couple of hours, Stella spotted the hill on which Lupin Castle was built and decided to make herself less conspicuous. She didn't know the safety precautions on the Castle in every detail, but she assumed there was a ward against aerial intruders. Moreover, she didn't want to be noticed too soon, which could easily happen even despite the Invisibility Spell, depending on what sort of detecting devices Remus had at his disposal and so Stella dived into the forest below that surrounded the Castle.

Forcing her broom into a steeper angle, she plunged into a gap between the trees which had been large enough for her to pass through. Within seconds, Stella found herself in a tangle of branches and leaves that made it impossible to see more than three feet ahead.

She realized with a pang of anxiety that her flying skills might be a little rusty for pulling stunts such as crossing a forest of many healthy, full-grown trees. Apart from overestimating her abilities, she was flying in a very unfavourable angle and velocity, only barely managing to pull out the dive without getting unseated by one of the branches in the process.

Stella's reflexes were slower than they had used to be, but not altogether gone. Gripping the broomstick handle with both hands and concentrating all her senses on her surroundings and possible obstacles, Stella tried to slow down and descend to the ground without getting pierced through or beaten senseless by the branches.

She had just dodged a particularly nasty-looking spiky one when suddenly, her breakneck flight was stopped with a violent jerk that left Stella breathless for a few seconds. When she was able to take in her surroundings again, she realized with an unpleasant lurch in her stomach that she was hanging among the trees only by her robes that had got tangled with the branches and thus had forced her to come to an abrupt halt.

Stella's mind raced, but it wasn't fast enough to come up with the obvious solution for a Switcher - transforming into a cat or a bird and get to the ground easily.

Rrrip...

The robes tore a mere moment later and with a muffled cry, Stella fell down, only to be stopped by a branch a few feet lower. She gripped it tightly and wanted to reanalyze her position, but suddenly, the branch gave in under her weight, leaving no more obstacles in the way down.

Stella hit the ground with her bottom, but the force of the impact threw her backwards, so that she found herself lying on the forest ground covered with grass, moss and leaves, her heart beating wildly, but apparently still alive and quite unharmed, as it seemed. Very slowly, she sat up and checked her body for injuries. Her hands were still trembling with shock and as she noticed, very scratched. With sudden panic, she touched her face and discovered many little bruises and cuts she hadn't noticed during the 'flight'.

Of course, I can count myself lucky I didn't break a leg or something, she thought, but how am I going to face Sirius when I'm in such a state?

With her anti-talent in Healing Magic, she wasn't able to heal a mere cut!

Groaning with utter hopelessness, she let herself fall back into the leaves. High above her head, she saw her robe hanging, completely torn.

"Damned thing!" she said angrily. "Why in hell did I pay hundreds of galleons for your bloody label if your material's absolute crap?!"

Her gaze fell on her broomstick that had been drilled into the trunk of a nearby tree and seemed to be on the verge of splitting in half. A wave of hot anger at her difficult situation rose in Stella's chest, combining itself with the overwhelming tension she had been feeling all the time because of the upcoming meeting and forming a veil of uncontrollable rage that descended onto Stella's mind, making her completely oblivious to her surroundings.

With a swift movement, she picked up the branch that had broken under her and smashed it against the tree in front of her with all the force she could muster. It broke and the tree trembled almost imperceptibly. But Stella didn't have enough. She summoned a thicker branch and continued to hit the tree, her anger giving her enough strength to curse incessantly in all the languages she could speak and all those she didn't actually speak, but knew the expletives of.

Stella continued smashing the branch against the tree until she was left totally without breath from the physical activity combined with profuse swearing.

As she couldn't think of any more curses, she just kicked the tree and told it in a voice raw with angry emotions, "There you go, you stupid, fucking tree! Hope you will rot in hell!"

Even as she was saying it, the childishness and irrationality of her overall behaviour became clear to her. After all, this tree would rot, if anywhere, in this forest and it wasn't like Stella's situation was its fault, in fact, everything that had happened had been caused by a severe miscalculation of her flying skills. But in that moment, Stella didn't give a damn about sensible explanations.

Breathless, but with adrenaline still surging through her veins, she turned around to find something else to let steam off on and...

...froze, completely paralyzed.

Apparently, she hadn't been alone during her outburst.

A few yards away from her, a tall man with black hair and dark eyes was leaning casually against a tree trunk, arms crossed in front of his chest, having a distinctive air of amusement around himself.

Stella swallowed, her eyes never leaving his face in which his lips were twitching, as if he was barely stifling a grin.

This wasn't happening. She must have had a concussion and now she was hallucinating, because this couldn't be... But even as she thought that, she knew it was him, standing mere yards away from her after being unattainable for years...

Revelling in Stella's shock and disbelief, Sirius couldn't resist and so at last, he grinned his characteristic lop-sided grin that Stella had long ago grown to love. It that moment, however, it inspired different sentiments in her.

She glared at him, putting her hands to her hips. "Don't you dare laughing at me, Sirius Black!"

He grinned even more broadly and of course, started chuckling.

"Sorry," Sirius told her, his voice making Stella's racing heart beat even faster. "You just... look like a sulking little girl after a fight with some leaf-monsters," he continued, stepping a little closer and seizing her up carefully.

Stella recalled a certain Herbology lesson that had included leaf-monsters, rather cute beings despite their name that wouldn't attack anyone unless really provoked. Feeling suddenly self-conscious and timid under his scrutinizing gaze, Stella blushed and began to pull out twigs and leaves out of her messy hair.

"Don't."

Sirius's voice made her stop in mid-movement. He couldn't tear his eyes off her. Amidst the trees in the muted light of the forest, with her cheeks flushed from the earlier rush of adrenaline and now even more reddened out of embarrassment and with her deep greenish-brown eyes, she had never looked more beautiful to him.

"I never said that the Post-fighting-leaf-monsters-look didn't suit you," he added with a light smile, pitching his voice lower.

It seemed to Stella that his words reverberated through her whole body, touching places in her soul that had lain abandoned for a very long time. She was at a loss on what to do. She didn't want to think...

"You're beautiful, Stella," Sirius whispered, very quietly, but she could hear him clearly because now he was standing only two steps away from her.

Stella raised her head and looked at him directly. He wasn't smiling anymore. Instead, he was staring at her with his dark eyes that had caused her so much pain in the past, but that still had the power to make her feeling weak and strong at the same time, to invoke strange, wild happiness as well as deepest sadness. They had so much power over her and yet that fact didn't scare Stella as much as it should have, for it was power that came with love, the strongest force in the world.

They held each other's gazes for what seemed to be an eternity, though it probably were only seconds. Both were torn between longing and fear. Fear of the consequences if they gave in to their heart's desire, fear of the unknown, fear of the unpredictable, of all the things that might be lost already and forever...

"Sirius...," Stella began, but her voice failed her.

And at this precise moment he made his decision. He would risk it, he just had to. Slowly, Sirius raised his hand and reached out for Stella, giving her enough time to back away if she wanted to, but she held her breath and didn't move. Her heart was beating so fast that she thought it would burst. She still couldn't entirely believe what was happening.

Sirius's hand was trembling, but he didn't care. Lightly, he touched her cheek, his eyes not leaving hers. It was as if this simple touch had broken a hidden spell. The invisible barrier between them crashed down soundlessly. Stella crossed the remaining space that separated them, flung her arms around Sirius... and was hugged back immediately.

She rested her head on his shoulder and felt his face being pressed against her hair. They were both shaking, but as they embraced each other more tightly in order to comfort the other, the trembling gradually subsided and left the two of them standing silently in the middle of the forest, oblivious to everything else but themselves. In that long moment, nothing mattered except for that special kind of sheer overwhelming, yet strangely quiet joy that floods the whole being. It was like drowning in a warm sea of pleasantness and security... like returning home after years of exile.

Stella didn't know how long they had been standing there and she didn't care. She was afraid to release him due to the fear that someone might come and take him away from her again. However, she banished those thoughts out of her mind. Nothing would ruin this moment in which Sirius belonged only to her and she to him. She closed her eyes, abandoning her fears and concentrating on the present, on the feel of Sirius' shoulders under her hands (her heart contracted painfully as she realized how thin he was), the smell of his clothes which was the same as years ago (evidently, Remus had kept some of his friend's old clothes), the rhythm of his heartbeat that was, for her, the most reassuring sound in the world, his breath on her neck that sent shivers down her spine...

Sirius could feel her hugging him more tightly and responded readily, infinitely happy she hadn't recoiled from him as he had feared she might have done. He felt a little dazed that after so many years of unfulfilled yearning, he could really hold her in his arms. However, even though Sirius had changed over the past years, he was still himself and therefore dared to move a little closer and place a light kiss the curve of Stella's neck. She shivered, but pleasantly so and turned her face towards his, smiling playfully as she placed some equally light and strategic kisses near his lips. He let her go on for the time of a few heartbeats, closing his eyes and savouring the moments. As she moved to place a particularly enticing kiss on the left corner on his mouth, he turned his head quickly and transformed the soft touch into a tender, truly magical kiss. That was all they would need their lips for at the moment. There would be enough time for words later.