*How is it possible, Sirius is wondering, to skate through school without a care, breeze through Auror training, and then suddenly have all that easy talent come to a screeching halt and be forced to take up studying? But that's what has happened. He has to give Peter some credit; Arithmancy is beastly difficult and the wards he's looking into are increasingly complex. But the Auror office has taken to relying on him for wardbreaking, and now that it's a specialty he has to stay current and keep getting better. He could have been a curse-breaker or an obliviator or even played the market and turned into a moderately affluent layabout, but no: some fit of nobility, and the desire to stick with James, had put him at the Auror office. And now he's a bookworm. He can sense the horror at these bald facts bubbling up inside what's left of his sixteen-year-old self, but there it is.
It's better than thinking about Gideon and Fabian, anyway.
He's so engrossed in this loop of self-pity and grief that he doesn't even notice until Bellatrix is there and, just like that, it's all swept away. His first thought is, Oh, not now, but his second is firmer, more decisive--No, I can use this. Last time they talked, she let things slip. Last time they talked, it led to tricking her. It can happen again.*
*A waiter’s already bringing her a tiny golden cup of thick sugared coffee the consistency of mud--he knows her on sight, as does every shopkeeper in the country. She doesn’t look away from Sirius, doesn’t blink, just raises it to her lips.*
*And there it is, in a flood. It only shows on his face for a split second, but that's more than enough for Bellatrix to see it, and now he can't just shrug it off. But he's not going to give her anything to work with, and he doesn't trust his voice, so he just closes his book, puts it in his bag, and takes a sip of his own tea.*
*Bellatrix takes a moment to enjoy it, that little flash of pain and grief on his face. It's exquisite. She speaks softly, a mad little glimmer in her eyes.*
*He's mastered it now, at least, but the damage is done.*
How nice of you to take an interest. You must be so brave to even read the paper these days, you being just a sheltered little housewife and all. You must tell me what you use on your hands, my girlfriend hates getting dishpan hands and you barely have them at all.
*She's been tearing the pastry into tiny pieces and tossing them carelessly to the pigeons near their table, but now she stops, a bejeweled hand tightening around the little scrap of pastry.*
Worried sick actually. Thinks there’s a Grim after him and his papers.
*And she fixes him with a glare, opaque and murderous.*
*She leans forward, dropping her voice to an angry little hiss of a whisper.*
It'll be your problem too one of these days.
Did you bewitch the dog? Imperio? Don’t tell me you’re an Animagus, you don’t have the fucking patience--whatever you did I’ll find out but I know it was you--
Fuck you Sirius--I'll wipe out every dog on the moors and in this fucking country if that's what it takes, you just try that again and see what happens--
*With some difficulty, Bellatrix stops and rather furiously gets herself together. When she speaks again it's slowly, in an entirely different tone.*
Did they turn the chair, by the way? I do love it when they turn the chair--
*It's proof. That's all there is to it. It's proof. Even most of the Auror office didn't know, didn't want to see how the Prewett twins ended up, but Sirius made himself look. The chair, the little diorama, there was no way they died that way, there was someone else there and of course it was her, it reeks of her doing, and there's proof, right there, practically a confession, and he's done playing.
He stands and takes out his wand.*
Fuck you, Bellatrix, I'm placing you under arrest for the murders of Gideon and Fabian Prewett--
It's better than thinking about Gideon and Fabian, anyway.
He's so engrossed in this loop of self-pity and grief that he doesn't even notice until Bellatrix is there and, just like that, it's all swept away. His first thought is, Oh, not now, but his second is firmer, more decisive--No, I can use this. Last time they talked, she let things slip. Last time they talked, it led to tricking her. It can happen again.*
I don't have any treats for you. Shoo.
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I’m so sorry for your loss.
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Closed caskets, I hear. Pity.
You're so wonderfully brave, to be an Auror.
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How nice of you to take an interest. You must be so brave to even read the paper these days, you being just a sheltered little housewife and all. You must tell me what you use on your hands, my girlfriend hates getting dishpan hands and you barely have them at all.
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You're looking well. Considering.
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*But this is fruitless; he has to get her angry and make her careless. This silly sparring accomplishes nothing.*
How's Reg doing? I assume you must know. You seem awfully alive and well for him to be doing poorly.
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Worried sick actually. Thinks there’s a Grim after him and his papers.
*And she fixes him with a glare, opaque and murderous.*
He’s a fool in more ways than one.
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His foolishness is your problem, not mine.
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It'll be your problem too one of these days.
Did you bewitch the dog? Imperio? Don’t tell me you’re an Animagus, you don’t have the fucking patience--whatever you did I’ll find out but I know it was you--
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I'm not tell-ing.
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*With some difficulty, Bellatrix stops and rather furiously gets herself together. When she speaks again it's slowly, in an entirely different tone.*
Did they turn the chair, by the way? I do love it when they turn the chair--
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He stands and takes out his wand.*
Fuck you, Bellatrix, I'm placing you under arrest for the murders of Gideon and Fabian Prewett--
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You can't be serious--
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