To Be Loved

To Be Loved
If this was a dream. Then it was a good dream and she did not want to wake.

Since that night, she had visited this dream many times and could not deny that this was so much sweeter than the reality. Sometimes, it played as it had happened, with her standing in the midst of a babbling crowd, smiling at a face she could not yet distinguish. It shone past the strained, crevassed visage of Ruben. Right past him.

Her name was Elisabeth McEaneny. Though, she was often referred to as Elsa to her more intimate associates. In her dream she had come willingly with her fiancé Ruben Vladimirov but in reality he had ordered her to be at his side, when he traveled to London to attend a party in his honour for his promotion to Head Deputy of the Department of Underage Wizardry.

How dry and fixed was her smile as the auburn-haired fool gladly took his medal from the Minister and how rigid was her clapping when he finished his speech. She even made little to say when he pointed her out in the crowd, proclaiming his dear love for her. Oh how the bile coated her throat at these words.

Ruben was not a nice man of any ranking. He sugar-coated his act and as Elsa knew too well, the man was slick with his words and dangerous with his charm. Though this was not evident for others to see.
After he had spoken, he joyfully bounded to her company and snaked his arm around the waist of her red dress, displaying a large public appearance of affection. Elsa’s eyes had furtively searched the crowd for the shining, bald head of Kinglsey Shacklebolt but he was nowhere to be found. Dear Kinglsey, a friend of Ruben’s yet a closer one of hers. The man knew of her quiet disdain, her silenced fury. Yet she could not leave Ruben. Even though she felt chained to him, she was too weak to refuse him. Naively, she thought she could change him.

Behind closed doors, Ruben would retire to his study, hunched over stacks of papers in a pool of guttering candlelight. And his only need of her, was for more ink, the dinner and for comfort in his bed. The man had always welcomed the slender touch of a female holding him at night and Elsa felt surrendered to his body, by both force and her own, quiet yearning.

Countless of times she felt guilty for her weak actions, though still viciously enjoying the rampant movement between her and Ruben. That was only when she felt in control. That was when she could only tame her man and show him that she was not useless. Yet it was violent almost, dispassionate from the moment her lay her down.

Tentatively, Elsa rubbed the small of her belly as Ruben happily conversed with a wizened colleague. Could she be with child? Ruben would want it so. He would have to pay her more attention then. She carefully watched him as the lines in the corner of his eyes wrinkled to his humour behind his glasses, at a joke the wizened warlock had just probed.

A high, ringing laugh that was so carefully crafted to sound genuine to other’s ears. Well it is not ironic that both our faces are masks tonight, Ruben. Her eyes suddenly stung at the thought, her emotions beginning to curdle viciously with a dreadful emptiness. She noted that her white hand shook as she held her wine glass tightly, paying vague heed to the elaborate umbrella, adorned with diamonds, sticking out of it. Curse these thoughts. Curse them.

‘Ah, I’m accompanied by my beautiful wife Elsa; you may remember her from appearing on the WWN.’ Ruben’s voice drifted through her musings and she looked up at him, smiling sweetly as he talked to a new guest.

‘Indeed I do, an uprising star alongside Celestina Warbeck I have heard.’

‘Correct,’ laughed Ruben gently as Elsa nodded in gracious response, ‘I am very proud of her.’

He slinked a stiff arm around her waist and Elsa forced herself to grab his hand with affection. She felt besieged with elation that the guest had approved of her, but as she glanced around the great hall, other wizards stared at her as if she was a prize boar. Nothing truly special, unless she was in the company of the star of the night, Ruben Vladimirov. Oh how she wished to snicker at the name, as it almost rolled off her tongue.

Suddenly, she felt another hand on her shoulder and when turning, came face to face with Kinglsey Shacklebolt. The golden earring twinkled in his left ear from the bright candlelight of the hall.

‘Kinglsey,’ she breathed, sounding almost relieved. She gently prised herself from Ruben, muttering something of “certain business matters, nothing important” and followed Kinglsey past the chattering crowd, to an empty table. A few unfinished plates were strewn about and a turned over wine glass had stained the linen tablecloth scarlet.

‘What is it?’ she probed him, smiling slightly but this faded when she caught sight of Kingsley’s grave face. ‘Enjoy the wonderful party my beloved has thrown,’ she said to him, Ruben’s loud, trademark laugh floated over, ‘he is the apple of everyone’s eye tonight.’
Kingsley sensed the sarcasm in her tone but still he did not smile, nor speak.

‘You look as if you’re going to a funeral Kingsley, my dear friend’ she whispered, ‘I for one am ignoring the duties and the danger outside for one night.’

This was half a lie. Kingsley settled himself on a chair, brushing his deep-plum dress robes and invited for Elsa to sit beside him.

‘Elsa I am need of you to do something for me,’ he implored seriously in his deep voice. With a hand he beckoned her closer, so that none may hear him. His voice was barely more than a whisper, ‘I need you to go to Headquarters tonight and retrieve a map for me. I cannot go, I have a duty here tonight at this party. The other members cannot also because they have business elsewhere; I need you to do this for me.’

His words were heavy and eyes meaningful. Elsa felt that she had a pip stuck in her throat after she listened.

‘I cannot go; Ruben watches me closely tonight, I would feel bad for leaving him.’

‘Elsa,’ said Kingsley, sounding almost annoyed, ‘I will make your excuse. Do you not trust me?’

‘You know I do,’ stated Elsa, chortling with slight incredulity, if there was one person in the world who she could count on, it would be the cool, collected Kingsley, ‘but I must stress on how much Ruben wishes me to be at his side this night, he- ’

‘You are not his slave,’ Kinglsey affirmed, though he wisely said no more; his brown eyes spoke of all the things that Elsa had told him.

‘Fine,’ she sighed testily, through gritted teeth, ‘on your head be it, if Ruben has the temper of a Hungarian Horntail when I return.’

‘You agreed to join the Order because you said that you were willing to risk,’ smoothed Kinglsey, folding his arms, ‘well push aside any boundaries between you both for tonight. Ruben isn’t going to miss you for a moment; he looks rather in his element talking to all these Ministry officials.’ He allowed a wry smirk to unfold on his face.
Elsa observed him closely for several moments, licking her lips when finally she threw back her head and gave a rigid nod.

‘Alright, I will do it. Speak no more, I should go now to save myself from his confrontation …’ they both looked to Ruben who was absorbed in conversation with Cornelius Fudge. Her hazel eyes flew to Kinglsey and he nodded, urging her to go. Slowly and stealthily, she wove through the crowd, careful for Ruben not to spot her. This was amusingly done by the helpful height of a large, feathered hat from one of the guests. On closer inspection she saw that it was a gigantic, stuffed ostrich; its owner a swarthy, portly witch.

-x-x-

This was the first time she had laid eyes upon Grimmauld Place. Now she, a new Secret Keeper along with the other members would enter it. She murmured the address and waited. To her great surprise, a new house materialised between two others in the lined terrace, undaunted and unnoticed to a rowdy couple that stalked past.

Nerves jangling, Elsa crossed the square and tentatively walked up the steps. She came to a very solid-looking door. A tarnished, brass serpent-shaped knocker leered at her. Kingsley had not told her any background of this place, and Elsa was not afraid to admit she felt daunted by its presence. A house of the Dark Arts. She would make her visit brief and hopefully … unnoticed.

Upon entering, she became aware of the strong stench of decay. The door closed behind her with a shuddering BANG. Mistake. Big mistake. As soon as the wood slammed shut, a blood-curdling scream ripped through, the dark, dingy hall. Elsa had shrieked and in her fright, knocked over a stuffed troll leg to the floor with a flailing arm. The loud thumping of footsteps thundered down the dark stairs in front of her, and instinctively she whipped out her wand.

‘I tell you to NOT SLAM THE BLOODY DOOR! SHUT UP! You old hag! SHUT UP!’ A man came storming down the steps and strode to a large pair of curtains. He tore them upon and Elsa saw, from where she hid in the shadow of a cupboard, a portrait of a truly hideous, old woman. She was screaming at the top her lungs every insult under the sun, her eyes rolling madly about her head.

‘FILTH! SCUM OF THE EARTH! BESMIRCHING THE HOUSE OF MY FATHER-,’ she stopped abruptly as her eyes snatched onto the man before her, ‘YOUUUUUU!’ she screamed whilst blanching with unimpressionable rage, ‘TRAITOR! WRETCH! VILE, VERMIN OF MY FINGERNAILS! YOU ARE NO SON OF MINE –‘

‘I WAS NEVER YOUR SON!’ he roared and he whipped out his wand, stunning the portrait before closing the curtains shut. He collapsed against the wall in exasperation, panting slightly. His eyes then travelled about the hallway for the source of the commotion.

‘Whose here?’ he enquired.

Tentatively, Elsa immerged from behind the cupboard. Although she was frightened, she drew herself together.

‘Er – me,’ she mumbled haplessly, brushing some dust off her robes. When she walked forwards and saw who the man was, her stomach clenched painfully with shock. She had seen that man’s face in a paper two years ago, proclaiming his actions of vicious murder. His face had been so sunken and gaunt, surrounded by a shaggy, tangled mass of long, dark hair. Now, he looked in explicable good health. What was the meaning of this? He did not seem a threat. Kingsley would have known that Sirius Black was here. But why?

‘Who are you?’ he probed her sharply. He had not seen her face before.
Still rather stunned, Elsa responded. ‘Elisabeth McEaneny, I have come on Kinglsey’s orders to pick up a map he has left behind,’ she tried to make her voice sound official as possible. It rung dully in the hallway as Sirius eyed her carefully.

‘A map? Why could he not pick it up himself?’

‘That’s a very good question,’ asserted Elsa in a clipped tone, she paused, ‘I’m not an impostor if you wish to interrogate me.’

‘I will not,’ answered Sirius, folding his arms, ‘only members of the order know about this place. You are a Secret Keeper of the Fedilius charm.’

‘Of course,’ said Elsa lightly, picking up the troll leg, which wobbled ominously as she tried to set it still, ‘I am quite a new member.’

‘I know you are,’ stated Sirius dryly, giving a slight bark-like laugh at his own humour, ‘you were not told I was here were you? The look on your face said it all Elisabeth.’

‘Elsa,’ she prompted, ‘and yes, you’re right, I had only last seen your face in the Daily Prophet two years ago, looking rather … dashing.’ She did not allow for the arid humour to proceed, ‘but I trust you are not a murderous, raving lunatic because undoubtedly Kingsley Shacklebolt must know you are here,’ Sirius stiffly nodded, ‘and I am not dead on this floor. Will you show me where this map is?’

The sudden change from her blunt tone, made Sirius laugh slightly.
‘Yes,’ he said, running a hand distractedly through his wavy hair, ‘the map, the last I saw of it, was in the drawing room.’

‘Ah,’ said Elsa, ‘please show me.’ Sirius obliged and started up the stairs, with Elsa following closely behind. The house felt even narrower when they reached the second floor, and as her eyes became adjusted to the gloom she realised that the walls were adorned with even more curtained portraits. One wall she passed seemed stained with what horribly resembled blood. Yet Elsa could not keep her eyes off the man leading her, it seemed incredibly bizarre that he was a completely different person to what she deemed from the papers. On that thought, she felt rather guilty.

‘Well here we are,’ said Sirius lazily, as they entered the drawing room, ‘it should be in one of the drawers of the cabinet.’
Elsa doubtfully examined a large, crooked cabinet before her. ‘Do you have any idea in which draw it could be?’ she said, turning to him.

‘Try the left side,’ he said, rather unhelpfully. Elsa sighed to herself, choosing not to press him. She was beginning to feel quite impatient, she had promised herself she would be quick, for Ruben was probably growing suspicious as to where she was. Dread prickled at her. Hastily, she flitted through the drawers but found nothing save old photographs and a broken quill. After slamming the last drawer shut, she turned to Sirius.

‘It’s not here,’ she said to him, sounding both annoyed and disappointed, ‘I can imagine you spend a lot of time here and you lose what … one map?’

Sirius’ cool face flashed slightly, clearly stung by this accusation. His being not been able to escape the prison of his loathsome parent’s house was a fragile topic, and quickly made him angry.

‘It’s not lost,’ he snapped, ‘you cannot retrieve it by a simple accio charm, it’s location has been transfigured to different areas of the house so that a person can’t easily put their hands on it.’
This seemed a logical explanation but Elsa wondered why Kingsley had not informed her of this. She tilted her head in question.

‘Then show me the next place,’ she said plainly.
Sirius nodded and led her down the ominous, oppressive hallways to the kitchen. A solitary supper lay unfinished down the end of the long table, with a half-empty flagon of ale. How lonely was this place?

‘Try the kitchen drawers,’ murmured Sirius, leaning a hand on the door frame. He watched her steadily as she began to check each draw, only to his expectations, to find nothing. Elsa stepped away, a hand on her hip, after she had finished searching. She looked wryly over at him, arching an eyebrow.

‘Try the kitchen drawers you say,’ she repeated, ‘to find nothing. One would think you’re playing games with me.’ She was about to say, “Because you are starved of the company” but she could not bring herself to. Sirius actually smiled at her, with both amusement and defeat. From inside his deep-purple blazer, he handed her a rolled up map. She took it, smiling triumphantly and pocketed it in her robes.

‘Thank you,’ she said delicately.

‘No problem at all.’

‘I – ’

She broke off as she felt a restlessness stir in her. Instinctively, she knew that Ruben was beginning to notice her disappearance. Oh that damned man. Damn him, tonight was his night. As was most nights. She envisioned his head, bobbing above the crowd, his sharp, blue eyes scanning the hall for her dark head.

These thoughts must have appeared on her face as she heard Sirius say, ‘anything the matter?’ She looked up and saw that he was watching her closely.

‘No,’ she replied, feeling slightly flustered, ‘I- I’ve come back from a party, which I must return to, it is … it is requested of me.’
She flew her gaze down to the floor as Sirius continued to stare at her. Oh good lord she thought furiously, I cannot feel this. I cannot. Mustering all simple strength, she made her way over to the kitchen door, but in passing Sirius, she felt herself stop. Heart beating frantically, she looked into his face, praying no anxiety could be seen on hers.

‘Why do you look at me so?’ she said quietly, voicing her curiousness.
Sirius did not answer, merely shifting his casual arm down from the door frame. In this moment, Elsa began to notice the colour of his eyes: they were a fathomless grey and she felt herself drowning in them. She swallowed hard and determinedly stared at her hands. This was Sirius Black, the murderous convict she once believed, but now an enigmatic statue standing in front of her. He was so close to her, too close. And yet, had anything ever felt so … right? No, no it could not be. The thought was ludicrous! She was loyal to Ruben; … her stream of defiant thoughts stalled to a halt.

‘I have to go,’ she murmured, brushing past him, making to the door. But a hand took her arm, surprising her how gentle it was. She turned round, standing right in front of him. ‘I must,’ she tried to say but by simply looking Sirius straight in the eye; her voice seemed to get caught in her throat. She allowed him to take both her hands and he was startled to feel her trembling.

‘There is little time these days’ he said in quiet, soft voice.
Elsa did not know what to say. ‘You-Know-Who is at large,’ she said finally, ‘we’re all treading on eggshells. Who knows what tomorrow may bring?’

‘People’s lives, my friend’s lives are at risk …’ he left the sentence hanging in the air.
Elsa frowned up at him. ‘They are willing to risk,’ she said flatly, ‘they are committed to the order.’

‘And I too,’ he replied, somewhat curtly, his hand still clenching her arm, ‘but in here I stay, left only in the company of a miserable, accursed house elf.’ He laughed grimly.

‘I can’t help that,’ said Elsa quietly, wondering what he was getting at.

‘I know you can’t’ finished Sirius, removing his hand, ‘but your life is out there, free and vulnerable to the world.’

‘Don’t say to me what I already know,’ murmured Elsa, her hazel eyes flashing slightly but her fury vanished. The man didn’t sound gloomy, simply … concerned. And it wasn’t pity she felt; only an understanding that he should feel this way. How agonising it must be too forced to watch his friends in the order risk their lives.

Of course, she wasn’t entirely free. She assumed her life must be as lonesome as this man’s … cooking for Ruben, serving Ruben, sleeping with Ruben, summoned to Ruben. Not a minute to herself. Not a minute truly appreciated. She couldn’t remember the last they shared a personal conversation. The shackles of responsibility and the cage of a being a wife.

‘I apologise,’ he said calmly, ‘I just urge you to be careful out there, young as you are.’

‘Young?’ murmured Elsa with quiet incredulity, and even Sirius laughed softly, sharing this dark humour, ‘not entirely. Things have happened.’

‘Such as?’ pressed Sirius, daring himself to find out more about this witch, than would be expected on a first encounter.

Elsa’s face was a mask. ‘The deaths of loved ones. I have known things which old people haven’t a notion.’

‘Naturally, I know how you feel,’ stated Sirius, his eyes darkening, looking for a moment rather ominous.

Elsa bent down her head to stare at her fingernails. How long could she put up her guard, before him, when this man had escaped the perilous prison that was Azkaban itself? And he towered above her, at least a head high.

She dared herself to move forwards, infatuated by her intrigue for this man and losing herself in the infinite depths of those eyes. She wondered fleetingly what those lips tasted like. Feeling even more flustered, she pushed the thought to the back of her mind but it refused to move.

He was not pushing her, simply waiting. And then, as if lost in a dream, her head drew nearer and she pressed her lips, tentatively to his own. Oh the feeling was a sensuous delight! He tasted wonderful, his lips pausing, begging for her to continue. Her hand hovered on the surface of his hair. But – the guilt consumed her.

Elsa forced herself to withdraw, feeling a mixture of longing and shame that she had been unfaithful to Ruben. She was not an entirely strong woman, but being with Ruben had made her somewhat weak-willed.
Her hands were still firmly clasped in Sirius’ and it was with slight regret that she let them go. A thousand unspoken words and questions were passed silently between them. In the end, she had to face the facts; she was betrothed to Ruben, his fiancée. And her actions had been no less than a simple wanton. Yes, that was it, she felt weak and useless, that she had no morals. Stiffly, she shook off his hand as it tentatively proceeded to clasp her own. She would not be a lonely man’s entertainment.

‘I have to go Sirius,’ she said tersely, ignoring how wonderful his name sounded on her lips. She refused to look at him in the eye. ‘I – I don’t know what came over me. Thanks for your … help.’

Help? He thought furiously and Elsa saw a flicker of anger run across his now guarded eyes. She would not leave on a bad note.

‘I can’t,’ she said ruefully to him, ‘I belong to another.’

With this, she left him without another word, daring not to look at his face. Her head was spinning about what she had done, when she descended the cold steps. She knew he wasn’t happy and deep down, neither was she, but this was how it was to be. A cold hand sealed itself on her heart, and Elsa flicked away the silent tear.

-x- x-

She returned to the evening party, with mixed spirits. Apparently Kingsley’s excuse for her disappearance had been “sickness” but to her dismay, she learnt that Ruben had not noticed that she was gone at all. And so, she breathed a sigh of relief. By one o’clock in the morning, the party had come to an end. Ruben bid the minister and a few other colleagues’ goodnight before departing from the hall, with Elsa at his arm.

When they entered, the cold and breezy streets, they disapparated to their townhouse in Canterbury. She helped, a very tipsy Ruben to his bed, obliging in getting his water and creating his favourite, buttered pancakes. When he had finally consumed the lot, he fell into a fitful sleep and Elsa slowly nestled beside him. Though, she stayed awake for a good hour, resting on her cool pillow whilst observing the wrinkled glass which was illuminated by the moon. He felt alien beside her.

-x-x-

‘Oof!’ Ruben exclaimed, setting aside the Evening Prophet one evening in the sitting room, ‘well the ministry is certainly digging their claws in.’ He chuckled amiably and lazily flicked his wand to pour himself some more brandy.

Elsa smiled at him from the divan. ‘What has been said?’

Ruben hastily scanned the front page and read it out loud: ‘ “More claims that Potter saw You-Know-Who rise from the dead. Miriam Boltscrew, an attractive spokesperson for St Mungo’s, exclusively said that “its was only a matter of time before Mr Potter was carted to the hospital, due to his mind being addled by the works of a severe Confunded Charm.” In my opinion, I agree wholly with Madame Boltscrew.’

‘I think they only put down her speech because she was attractive,’ replied Elsa tartly, as she sewed up a tear in one of Ruben’s fine robes with her wand. Their Yorkshire terrier, Pattie barked happily at her feet, ‘why else?’

She looked up, smiling blandly but Ruben only shrugged at her question. Undaunted, Elsa continued sewing, patting a cushion for Pattie to sit on. She became aware that Ruben was observing her with a somewhat critical eye.

‘Yes?’ she asked kindly to him. No smile stretched onto his face.

‘What’s happened to your arms?’ he said to her. Elsa frowned.

‘Nothing has happened to them,’ she replied looking confused.
Still, Ruben frowned at her.

‘They look a bit … floppy,’ he gave a mirthless chuckle, ‘like bingo wings, you know what that is?’

Elsa felt cold but nodded all the same. ‘Yes,’ she said to him, ‘but they don’t feel saggy.’

Ruben merely shrugged, leaning forwards on his chair. Elsa looked away from him and by her paranoia, pinched the skin of her underarms. It seemed elastic and firm to her, the only let down would be a few moles and spots. But, as do all human beings.

‘But you still seem lovely to me,’ Ruben pressed, smiling broadly at her, ‘lovely, lovely, lovely, like a little china-doll. You looked wonderful two weeks ago at my promotional party.’

Elsa felt herself go red. Well this was new … a compliment from him! She offered him a grateful smile.

‘Thank you, I did not think that the dress was that fabulous but -’

‘– you looked stunning at my side,’ overrode Ruben, who was only vaguely listening. Elsa silenced and nodded rigidly. He became aware that Ruben had got up from the chair was crawling to her side, beside the divan. A certain desire glinting in his blue eyes behind his black-rimmed glasses. Elsa knew too well what he wanted. She failed to suppress a small sigh, as a hand began to snake its way around her neck, massaging her skin in circular motion. The sensation brought a tingle right to her toes.

‘Ruben,’ she murmured, making to take his hand but he was insistent. Bites of tiredness clawed at her eyes, but still he wanted to. ‘I’m tired,’ she began to say but Ruben put a hand to her mouth. ‘Shhh,’ he whispered into her ear, ‘I’m tired of your denials this evening, please me.’

It was not a request. More of a command. Rigidly, Elsa nodded and gently put the torn robes aside and allowed him to proceed. Ruben shifted his face to the slope of her neck and began to viciously kiss it, whilst instructing for her to remove her dress. She did so with trembling fingers, as Ruben’s kissing paused. When only her red bra was exposed, Ruben traced a slow finger down her chest, his lips beginning to kiss hungrily on each fraction of skin, till it reached the hilt of her busts.

‘Remove,’ he managed to say, as he pulled off his jumper and t-shirt to reveal the ginger flecked chest that Elsa knew too well. The tip of her nipples became erect from the cold of the sitting room: the weak fire had been extinguished. She heard the chink of a belt being loosened, and Ruben undid his trousers then steadily, he urged her to lie directly below him on the divan.

Elsa swallowed hard and waited … waited for him to penetrate her. But she caught sight of it, and she dearly wished she hadn’t.
Why … it still hung there … so withered. Like a dead slug! She tore her eyes away and gazed at the rafters of the ceiling, as she felt Ruben move away from her. Curiously, she looked up. ‘I must disgust you,’ spat Ruben as he caught sight of her face, ‘just – just wait a moment,’ his voice faltered, ‘I need to prepare myself if this is how it is.’

She stiffly nodded. Prepare? Prepare for what?

Then, her fiancé closed his eyes. His right hand made its way to his withered manhood. He ran his meaty hands down the length of his flesh, breath quickening as his own touched became more demanding, more rushed. He threw his head back as a languid smile slipped onto his lips. Well this is a first, Elsa thought, what is he thinking about? Dread filled her up. His auburn hair shone in the candlelight, a poisoned sun that cruelly sapped out the life of everything near it. She wanted to retch, as she realized what he is doing, as his hands surround his manhood. He was pleasing himself!

She watched in horror as Ruben’s hand moved up and down violently. His face was skewered as if he was in pain. He moaned quietly. His lips moved slowly as he mutters incomprehensible curses and words of passion.

Her breath tightened. Her face turned pale. The world spun around her. He was pleasing himself in front of her. Bastard! Cruel bastard! He was pleasing himself because she apparently cannot. The desperate urge to curse him in the heart consumed her thoughts. But no. She would not. He deserved worse though nothing could compare with the horror that she felt in her own bosom now.
He stared at her now. His brow beaded with sweat.

‘Lie...down and spread your legs. Now,’ he urged, forcibly, pushing her down with a hand.

She stared at him then at his manhood. Her breath caught in her throat. What used to be a withered slug is now hard and upright. He still stroked himself but with less urge. His manhood throbbed in his hand and shone in its own juices. And again, he was to take her with it. She had tried so many times to enjoy him but at no cost. Elsa hesitated and only obeyed when Ruben gasped above her.

‘Damn it Elsa, What are you waiting for?’ he yelled, his breathing quick and hard.

She scrambled to do as he said. As soon she felt the soft velvet of the divan on her back and spreading her legs, Ruben pounced on top her and plunged his stiff shaft into her without warning.
She bit back a cry of utter pain. But he, tonight of all the other nights, mercilessly slammed into her.

Oh God … It hurts. Is there no godly angel who will bless me with their grace? Nothing to save me … my husband is mad …

But she received no answer except for the intolerable burning in her mid-section. Tears flooded her eyes and seep down onto the pillow. Her mouth was open, dry with noiseless screams. Her body was numb and frozen underneath her man. Her core ached. She would have felt no more pain if someone drove a stake through her hands.

‘No, I’m not finished yet,’ he said to her, ‘I will show you - .’
He violated her still even as she felt his manhood beginning to deflate. The pain lessened but the memory of how he always has his way with her is freshly branded onto her mind. Heaven have mercy on me.

Ruben moved more desperately inside of her. He pleaded with himself to continue. He did not even acknowledge her pain-filled eyes. Instead, he closed his own and muttered again. Quickly, he regained his strength and began to love her in his brutal, uncaring way. Elsa’s tears fell in torrents.

‘Oh...oh, heaven…’

No. Not heaven. Hell. You have cast me into hell, my cruel fiancé. Hell.

‘A - Alex...’

Her eyes widened. Alex…?

Ruben suddenly shuddered over her. She winced as she felt a warm jet of liquid stream into her. He was finished.

He lay there on top of her for what seemed like a horrible eternity. She wondered blearily what she should do if he fell asleep. She jerked her lower body, pulling his manhood out of herself, restraining the urge to kick him off the bed. He had just called a man's name in the heat of passion. A man!

Wordlessly, Ruben picked himself up off her body. He stared down at her, dazed, as if he couldn’t remember who she was. As soon as he stumbled back onto his feet, Elsa wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand and closed her aching legs. How she wished for a bath. But she couldn’t move. Her whole body was tingling with pain and humiliation. He had called a man's name ... not hers …

‘Maybe we might have conceived tonight,’ he mumbled, as he began to dress himself, ‘whilst trying to please you.’ He added a nasty emphasis on “please” and he haughtily put on his jumper.

‘You called out a man’s name,’ Elsa bit out spitefully, pulling her robes over her stark body, ‘who is Alex?’
Ruben jerked, caught off from his guard.

‘No –one …’ he muttered, ‘it is … not a person if that is what you think.’

Elsa raised her eyebrows, though she felt heat prick her eyes.

‘Not a person?’ she enquired in an injured voice, fighting back fresh tears, ‘what is it, then?’ she felt crazy for saying this to him, but then, she wished she didn’t want to know. Torn as she was for her feelings for this man but his words stabbed at her like a thousand knives, she felt programmed to do his will, only a duty to bear him a child whilst perhaps an object for his own amusement. But Elsa had fought to see past beyond all this … only to discover yet more emptiness and a self-obsessed creature. Oh it pained her to contemplate this. The man she had agreed to marry and thought she loved.

She lay on to her side and tentatively reached out to stroke his back.

‘I’m sorry if I did not please you,’ she said quietly, ‘I hope for the both of us that I am with child.’ Ruben turned and he was quite thrown to see a humble smile fix itself on her bright face.

‘And I too,’ he muttered, after a brief pause, ‘a child will perhaps bring out the best in you and show you some respect.’
He threw off her hand and marched out of the sitting room, extinguishing the fire fully with his wand as he went. In the aching silence, Elsa watched the door slam, hearing the thuds of his footsteps above her. Oh, the tears got caught in her throat, from those words. She could not bring herself to believe them.

-x-x-

The rain pattered hard down against the windows. As she glanced in a corner, she saw the hunched form of Ruben poised over his dinner in the kitchen. A strewn pile of parchment was splayed everywhere on the table, converting it into a study.

‘More pancakes?’ she said over to him, hoping to break the somewhat stony silence between them. Would it be another dragging weekend?
Ruben glanced up and shook his head, the lines in his face illuminated by the pale, wintry sunlight.

Elsa stopped to look at him momentarily. A lump got caught in her throat and she threw down the knife.

‘I’ll leave you to your work then,’ she muttered to him, wiping her greasy hands on a towel. He gave a vague nod, and he did not notice or enquire as her being left the kitchen. Nor did he register the slam of the front door.

-x-x-

Elsa shivered as she felt the rain slap at her face. Pulling her hood closer to her head, she started down the deserted road, past the empty park where the muggle children played and hid from view behind a large oak tree. Her suede boots were beginning to feel damp, from the muddy grass, and with one last furtive glance around her, disapparated.

She apparated into a familiar, dingy square on the outskirts of London. As a small comfort, the place seemed less grimy in the daylight, but it seemed the entrails had surfaced. A portly muggle, clad in a string vest with his boxers riding up his jeans glanced at her as he put out some rubbish. A mannish pregnant woman, waddled past with her son observed Elsa amusedly in her cloak. Elsa ignored this and started across the square, to the place she was both extremely cautious and desperate to go: Grimmauld Place.

She had no idea what was leading her there … or what she would gain. But anything from the suffocating atmosphere of Ruben would suffice. She reached the edge of the unkempt garden in the centre of the square, standing before both 13 and 15 Grimmauld Place. She muttered the address out loud and soon enough, the house materialized before her. Heart beginning to beat with anticipation and apprehension, she ascended the steps. With a small, reminiscent smile she was careful to not seize open the door.

The serpent knocker seemed to almost smile at her this time. Upon opening the door, she was relieved to find the hallway empty. No bloodcurdling screams; (she was not in the mood to be frightened) and no whisper of voices, such as a meeting of the order. All seemed pristinely preserved from when she last stepped foot. Even the sight of the stuffed troll leg made her smile.

Seeing as her entrance had not been alerted by the screams of Sirius’ mother’s portrait, Elsa decided that the man she sought must be in the kitchen. And as she expected, a slither of candlelight was seen flickering at the bottom of the kitchen door opposite her. Trying to control her anticipation, she started forwards, unaware how loud her footsteps sounded in the small hallway. Her hand was about to turn the cold handle when the door opened sharply in front of her. She started and stared up at Sirius, who observed her with great surprise as he realized who it was.

‘Hello,’ she said to him, risking a smile. He did not return it. He wearily backed away into the kitchen, allowing her pass him and to settle in a chair. But she didn’t; Elsa hovered by the empty cauldron, watching him closely and waiting for him to speak.

‘I don’t know why you’re here,’ said Sirius, as he sat down before a half-eaten pie. Her heart sank. ‘I suppose you did not just “drop by”.’

Elsa hated that he sounded so bitter.


‘No,’ she said, wringing her hands, ‘I came to apologize for what happened last time.’

Sirius let out a derisive sniff and drank deeply from a goblet.

‘You’ll be wasting your time then Elisabeth,’ he said gruffly.
Her name sounded alien from his mouth.

‘I only came to -’

‘– come and pop by because you felt sorry for a lonely man?’ interrupted Sirius acrimoniously. He folded his arms, leaning back in his chair. A ringing silence ensued.

‘No,’ Elsa said, fighting to keep her voice firm and sincere, ‘not at all. If anyone who is lonely it is I,’ Sirius rolled his eyes, ‘yes,’ she affirmed to him, ‘there is much you don’t know. But I suppose I would be wasting my time, in just wanting – some company.’

With a swift nod, she retreated round the table and headed for the door but as she had hoped, Sirius called her back.

‘Wait,’ he said resignedly to her. Elsa stopped at the door. In turning she saw him rise from his chair and walk over. ‘Wait.’
She cast her eyes up into his and slowly, she shook her head.

‘Why change your mind?’ she asked him, ‘I’ve never pitied you if that’s what you think.’

He didn’t answer her. He drew closer and Elsa watched his face work into a politely puzzled expression, all resentment fully died down.

‘What I don’t understand is why you’re here,’ he said quietly to her. She could hear his gentle breathing and shakily, allowed him to take a hand of hers. Once again, he was startled to feel her trembling next to him. Answers beyond what he thought were read upon Elsa’s face. She smiled weakly up at him, unknowing what to say, whilst trying to calm the drumming of her heart. When she did not answer, Sirius gently asked again.

‘Why are you here?’

Elsa only ever heard the distant tapping of the rain on the kitchen windows, though she knew she would lose herself. This time there would be no boundaries, no guard set up. Nothing had ever felt so right. She gave a small gasp, turning her gaze away.

‘Because it is the way you are looking at me now …’ she breathed, unable to look at Sirius straight in the eye. Those eyes. Her passion plundered her.

Turning back to him, she felt his grasp on her hands tighten with affection. Swallowing back all nerves, she gave a gasp and sunk her lips to his own, fiercely tasting him. Wilting into him. They both sank back against a wall and he slid his hand around her waist and pulled her to him gently. She met his hungry gaze with one of similar need, the corner of her full lips tugging into a smile of encouragement as well as anticipation.

He drew in a breath at the consent given and lowered his mouth to hers. However, he held back before he could feel its silkiness, remaining poised over her lips so he could tease her a little and see just how much of an adventurous spirit she had. The playful dance continued for a few seconds, heat rising beneath the skin with each moment of near contact. She was bending into him, her body arching enough to grind against him. The fabric between them created a delicious friction and finally Sirius could bear it no more and captured her mouth in a kiss of intense passion.

Her lips opened beneath him as he began exploring the caverns of her mouth, feeling himself grow hard when her hands wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer to her. Her soft body molded perfectly to his own as he plundered her, his tongue dueling lustily with her own. For her seemingly delicate disposition, she matched him with each thrust and parry of this sensuous combat, until a kiss had so much power over him he could barely breathe.

Lust began to consume him and he drove her back into the wall, oblivious to the fact that within earshot, a person could walk through the door or Kreacher could slink into view. He was damned if he was going to endure any such situation when he was in throes of what promised to be the most passionate moment of his life. Once he had her trapped between the wall and his body, he allowed his hands to find the shape of her breast and began kneading. A small sound escaped her but he knew it was not pain. She welcomed it, for he was skilful.

The soft, round flesh beneath his fingers made him growl under his breath. He had not remembered it being so good to touch a woman in this way and yearned to feel her bare flesh. Her legs parted slightly, allowing him to push against her until he was certain she knew the full extent of his arousal.

His other hand delved beneath the folds of her dress, searching through the layers of fabric until his fingertips were pleasured with the smooth feel of a firm thigh. The silky softness of it made him groan into her mouth as his hand ran up and down its length, finally hooking it over his hip. His hardness pressed against her moist center and despite the barrier of clothing, both shuddered at the contact. She was running her fingers through his hair, muttering his name, as he tasted her lips, her neck and nibbled softly at her ear until her body was so aflame with desire; she hardly cared if anyone found them here like this.

Sirius gently tugged at the sleeve of her dress, pulling it over a creamy shoulder. His mouth slid down the curve of her neck, wanting to savour every inch of the journey across her skin. The delicate material exposed her arm and freed one plump breast to his hungry gaze. He watched in fascination as the rose bud tip crinkled against the cold air of the hall, before a gleam of mischief prompted him to capture it in his mouth.

‘Oh, Sirius,’ she gasped as he suckled gently at the flesh, his tongue caressing the erect tip with ruthless abandon. He tortured her expertly as he swirled his tongue around her aroused flesh and felt her melting in his arms. Her soft moans had become short gasps of pleasure and hearing them made him so hard that it was all he could do to keep from tearing her clothes from her body and burying himself deep within her warm depths. And she, him.

Elsa could hardly breathe as she felt his mouth torture her with unbelievable pleasure. The rough friction of his beard against the sensitive skin of her breast, not to mention his delightful skillful tongue was driving all thoughts of propriety from her mind. Indeed the idea that they were doing something so forbidden was making her slick with need and she could not care less if they were to be found rutting like animals, just long as his wonderful mouth did not stop what it was doing. To hell with Ruben, she was slave to this man.
Suddenly he pulled away, raising his head so that he could meet her gaze once more. Elsa felt her stomach contract in protest at the end to that sweet, suckling pleasure but the dark shade of his grey eyes told her that he was far from done with her yet.

‘I think we should retire from this place,’ he said huskily, his voice so low that it made her hair stand on end and sent a fresh surge of wanton lust through her. ‘I want to be inside you, Elsa, but not like this, not here,’ they both chuckled as he gestured to the grimy hallway and house-elf heads, ‘You deserve better than to be taken like some wench in the dark. I want you in my bed. Will you do me the honour?’

‘As if you need to ask …’ she said abruptly and kissed him hard to confirm her answer.

His lips crooked into a wry smile, one that was filled with warm affection rather than hungry lust. For an instant, their encounter became more than just a meeting of flesh but rather, the promise of something that would last beyond the night, which could hold them in its grip forever. Indeed she had pleasantly surprised him, with such a petite physique and supposed fragile demeanor. But this was what Elsa had always yearned for. She smiled at him as she adjusted her dress to a more acceptable state of modesty before Sirius took her hand and led her from the hallway.

She had asked for him to carry her up the stairs, and he was more than willing. She was so small, and delicate that he picked her up with ease. As he started up the stairs, they both passionately kissed one another, Elsa’s hands cupping him around his jaw and wildly playing with his dark hair. For a moment, Elsa thought they were like two naughty children running away to indulge in some mischief. She barely realized when they reached Sirius’ room.

He gently dropped her when they entered. She allowed him to close the door behind her as she studied the dimly lit room. Soft light from candles greeted her eyes as she entered his inner sanctum and a sliver of curiosity crossed her mind at this insight into his private self.

She was so busy observing the artifacts and what seemed piles of magazines that made up its contents that he rather caught her by surprise when he snaked an arm around her waist and lowered his lips to her neck from behind. She bent back into his soft, sensuous mouth and felt his hands gliding slowly up her sides before cupping both breasts in his hands and began caressing them softly.

Elsa closed her eyes as she felt him tease her body with his expert touch, delighting in the sensations coursing through her body. It felt like an eternity before he gently eased the dress from her body. The silken fabric slid of her shoulders and fell around her legs as if she had stepped into a pool of satin. Elsa heard Sirius’ breath catch as he stared at her nakedness and smiled at his reaction.

‘You’re beautiful,’ he whispered softly as she turned around to face him. Elsa saw Sirius’ eyes raking over her form with lust and affection. She smiled at him and felt that it was time to torture him for awhile. Taking a step closer, she began to gently undress him, noting his quickening breath when her hands made contact with his skin. As she pulled his shirt from his body, she planted soft kisses against his chest and felt him tremble at the pleasure of it. She smiled at the sight of him.

‘Would you share my bed, Elsa?’ he asked breathlessly, his control barely contained after what she had done to arouse him.

‘I would share everything with you, Sirius,’ she teased, stroking her hand under his chin.

He kissed her gently on the mouth following the gift of her redundant consent, his hands resting on her hips as he guided her to his bed, his lips teasing her with each step. They were both naked and in their retreat to his bed, their bodies rubbed against each other in sensuous friction. Each brush of flesh against flesh was stoking the fire at the core of them into an inferno neither could withstand. By the time they reached the bed, Elsa was so ready for him she could hardly believe it. She could feel her insides aching with warmth and moisture, the dampness between her legs corresponding with the hard ridge of flesh pressing against her belly.


They met each other’s gaze with dark eyes as they reached the bed. Sirius lowered her against the cool sheets, once again his mouth guiding her there. When she finally lay on top of the bedding, his body moved to cover hers. Elsa’s own breathing had quickened as she caressed the washboard muscles of his chest, her palms running along his broad shoulders, as he lay poised over her. He kissed her palm gently when it was within reach and brandished a smile so devastating that it pierced her heart like a knife.


Sirius slid smoothly between her legs so he could really taste her. Her intoxicating scent was heavy in the air and he would be terribly remiss if he did not indulge himself but a little. When his mouth made contact with her sensitive folds, Elsa let out a cry of pure pleasure and dug her nails into the sheets beneath them.

His tongue teased her erect center while his beard caressed her outer folds, causing her to lose all sense of herself and become slave to his sensuous ministrations. She felt his tongue pushing its way into the deepest crevices of her body, invading and yet exploring at the same time. Her legs had wrapped themselves around his back now and her black hair was a mane tossed from side to side as her body transformed into nothing but pleasured nerve endings.

‘Sirius,’ she gasped, ‘I can’t bear it! Please, please come inside me.’

Her insides throbbed with impatience. Something built inside of her, like blocks of stone stacking on top of each other. Quietly, she begged him to take her. She pleaded that he granted her this pleasure.
He gently pulled away from her and trailed a hot path of sensual kisses from her abdomen and slowly up to her neck. Her legs rise and wrap around his muscled torso, urging him down. He resisted for a few seconds and she asked him why.

Warm grey eyes stared into her own. She choked on her own breath. How is a man so seemingly fierce so gentle with her?

‘Because I wish to take you gently,’ he answered huskily. ‘You deserve no less.’

Tears clouded her vision though she tried valiantly to hold them back. Her breath shuddered as his lips caressed her forehead; she was agonizing for him. In all his life he had never wanted to be with anyone the way he wanted to be with her. Pleasure was swirling around them both, consuming them with its heat until their joining became much more than the union of flesh but rather of soul. He slid up her body, his manhood hard and aching for her, almost as much as her moist depths needed to feel him inside. This was their moment and as much as he wanted to savour it, to make it special.

But Elsa could not wait. She could not wait for tenderness.
Sirius responded to her desperate demand by forcing her arms above her head and pinning both of her wrists with one of his hands. The action brought her breasts within easy reach of his mouth and he enclosed one pert nipple with his lips and began to nibble.

Elsa moaned at his touch, bucking against the restraint of his hands but also feeling her pleasure escalate at this feeling of being helpless to his ministrations. She felt the tip of his cock probing the folds of her sex and quickly spread her legs wider, inviting into the depths of a moist channel.

Sirius’ breath caught when he felt his manhood clenched within an incredible sheathe of tight, warm flesh. He released her hands and clasped the sheets as he tried to restrain himself. He had to close his eyes or else he would have climaxed immediately and for a precious few seconds, he could do nothing but revel in the incredible pleasure of her body. He was gasping to accustom himself to the contraction of muscles around his cock when realized that he had not even begun to move yet. She would kill him with pleasure before the night was out.

Elsa spread her legs wider, completely unaware that she had done so because all she could feel was him filling her as none had ever done before, caring for nothing except how deep inside he wanted to go. She whimpered, allowing the sinful sensations moving through her body to awaken every nerve inside of her, until all she could think of was this wanton need to have him pound into her until she screamed.

But Sirius wished to take her slowly, to allow her to become accustomed to him being inside of her. He was by no means a thoughtless lover and for all her spirit, she was still very much a lady and deserved being treated as such. However, when he felt her nails dig into his rear, pulling him deeper into her body until he was buried to the hilt, his restraint snapped completely and utterly.
Uttering a low moan, he slammed into her hard and felt her arc beneath him from either pleasure or pain. It was difficult to say.

However, he had his answer when she pulled him harder against her, giving him leave to pound her into submission if need be.
Sirius found himself closing his eyes and gritting his teeth to brace himself as he felt shock waves of pleasure reverberate throughout his body the further he slid into her tight depths. Warm suction coaxed him in with promises of agonizing sensation when both her legs wrapped around his waist. His hands were fisted in the sheets to keep himself from crying out. However, the sheer intensity of sensation strangling his hardened manhood was beyond belief as her nails raking across his flesh in reaction. The pain of it engendered an equally beatific pleasure in every inch of the journey to her sweet center.

‘Elsa’" he managed to speak, somehow. ‘You have undone me,’ his voice escaped him in a hoarse whisper.

She could not answer because each stroke tore the sense from Elsa’s world, forced the breath from her body, until her entire soul was becoming suffused with one thought and one thought only -- what he was doing to her. Elsa closed her eyes and in the rainbow of colour she saw before her, heard distantly her own voice crying for him not to stop. She could not remember when it had ever been so good, when her entire soul was driven to this state of pure animal lust, where the thoughts of her every day existence had given away so completely for this man and her willingness to do anything for him.

If Elsa was completely lost, then Sirius was no better. He began riding her hard; penetrating her with such relentless rhythm that very soon he could not think at all. He could hardly believe he had found this unexpected jewel and refused to think about tomorrow. However, Sirius knew that, despite his love for Harry, his heart was utterly in Elsa’s keeping. He had not felt this pleasured or happy for such a long time and he was going to revel in it for as long as it lasted.

The taut muscles of his body were covered in a fine sheen of sweat but he barely noticed. His awareness was centered on Elsa’s nubile flesh stroking him in readiness of one of the most intense releases he would ever know.

A pressure of sensation began to fill his manhood, coursing blood through his veins and drowning out all other awareness except the swell of extreme pleasure that becoming so intense that nothing else seemed to matter. Pleasure. Sensation. Ecstasy. It crowded in on him like a loud noise; until his body was so gripped in its thrall he knew nothing else.


The only thing he could do with any semblance of consciousness was to continue his brutal strokes even harder. His fingers dug into her shapely hips as he impaled her with relentless rhythm until her head was thrown back and she was crying out his name.

Elsa was gripped with a potent mixture of unbelievable lust and deep abiding love for this man, who had worshipped her body and pleasured her like none had ever done before. Her body tensed and her back arched as she felt her climax finally overcoming her. She knew she was wantonly calling out his name in complete abandon, pleading at him to go faster and harder. Sirius was happy to oblige and continued his penetrating thrusts until she was pushed over the brink in all its entirely.


‘Sirius!’ she gasped when the back of stamina finally shattered and her entire being plummeted from the lofty heights he had lifted her. Her nails raked across his back as she felt it sweeping over her, shrinking her world into the singularity of sweet release. Her insides contracted around him as she tumbled over the edge to completion, a final gift to his masterful assault upon her senses.
Sirius felt the breath driven from his body as her climax strangled his manhood with the perfect sensation of clenching muscles, until he too was spiralling towards his own release.

‘Oh … Merlin!’ Sirius groaned when he felt his seed spurt into her body. This release had stripped him bare and he was completely lost to the rapture of it. His warmth surged deep into her crevices leaving him completely drained in body and spirit. However, he continued thrusting because his mind was not ready to let go of this incredible experience he had shared with her. When he finally was still, Sirius collapsed on top of Elsa, feeling his sweat mingling with her own as they both lay on his bed, panting with exhaustion and completely spent.

He rolled off her body and lay next her, marveling at the encounter, marveling that he had found her and she, him. Sirius leaned towards Elsa until they were spooned together, relishing the scent of their lovemaking in the air and the heavenly aroma of her hair in his lungs; he did not want to know another day when she was not in his bed like this.

Her hand snaked its way to his cheek and she kissed him hard, breathing in his engaging sense. She could hear the rapid beating of his heart so close to her chest. They both lay, facing one another, entwined tightly with both their arms. Elsa would not think of anything else. She wanted this moment to last forever, every second was so precious.

‘Will you spend the night here?’ he asked her, stroking his lips against the softness of her brow. ‘It’s growing dark outside.’
Was that his excuse thought Elsa wryly and she buried her head beneath his chin, tightly clutching his shoulder whilst examining the wonderful, mysterious tattoos on his chest. All that awaited her back in Canterbury was an ill-tempered, solitary man whose only love was himself and his work. An empty, cold bed she would have to sleep in. He had only ever looked at her as if she was a dead rat, since that night.

And never, not in a million years, would he have worshipped and enticed her body as this man had now. She knew it and wasn’t afraid to admit it, but she was his. Sirius’ woman. She nodded her head slightly to his question and kissed his neck softly, wrapping her arms more tightly around his waist, pulling him closer. Engaging herself in his heat.

She did not want to let him go.

This was her dream, he was with her, Sirius Black, and although she had dreamt that the meeting was rather different; it still felt real enough and she wanted to share it with him as long as it lasted. For she knew, she would mourn him for the rest of her life, even though she would marry and have children and die an old woman with grandchildren around her. She knew full well of his determination to be free; his fate lay in protecting what he loved most.

And yet, the man she pledged her life to would never know that her heart had been stolen long ago on a perfunctory trip to a stranger’s house. He would never know that in the depths of the night, when all was still, she would surface the pearl in her mind that had become her love for Sirius and weep silent tears for what they might have had. Their love was star-crossed.

She held back a sniff, heat pricking at the corners of her eyes and she nestled closer to him. Finally, merciful sleep took them both, blocking out all disruptions, all cruel twists of fate, out of their minds for one precious, singular night.

-x-x–

Six months on, and Elsa had no more dreams of the grey-eyed stranger. She had become immersed in her work, distancing herself from Ruben and even the Order. She had had a breakthrough; a time slot was given to her on the WWN, and even Celestina Warbeck herself asked Elsa to work with her on some magical duets. Ruben was once again lapdog to the Minister of Magic, but Elsa had been too delighted by the new turning point in her career. She desired for there to be no parties like there had been for Ruben’s promotion.

Yet one evening, as she returned home from the Ministry, she saw two suitcases being levitated down the stairs. By the soft, golden evening light which filtered through the front door, Elsa saw Ruben leave her and blast his engagement to smithereens with his wand. She was beyond caring to react to this and wordlessly allowed him through the door. She saw no more of him, save his name in the paper and glimpses when she visited the Ministry.

Then, she spied the Evening Prophet by the soft candlelight in the sitting room. She felt pleasantly freer and her mind strayed to a certain someone, for what seemed an age ago. Wandering over, she scanned the front and she read the awful news. Elsa sank weakly onto the edge of a chair.

Yes, Voldemort had returned, she already knew that. That was not the awful news; it was scrawled in a tiny sentence at the end of the article.

It read: supposed dark servant of You-Know-Who, Sirius Black is dead.
And so it was. Her predicted nightmare, her one love …. she had never even said those three words to him.

But now she couldn’t.

He was dead.

Fin.