Like a gift from the heavens, it was easy to tell
It was love from above that could save me from hell
She had fire in her soul it was easy to see
How the devil himself could be pulled out of me

~ Ultimate Santana, "Into The Night"

He breathes softly against the little hairs on the nape of her neck. She stares straight at the wall, taking the time to count the many long cracks running through the faded wallpaper. Harry's arms are slung across her waist, his cheek on her shoulder, and she tries not to think about how surprised she always is that he's still so soft. Just a baby.

So many early mornings like this one. Waking up in a strange room in a strange part of town, except this one actually has a window, and Bellatrix can play with the specks of fluff only visible in the shards of pale light. Her hand reaches up to grab; darting and flexing and inevitably unsuccessful. She could reach for her wand, buried in her clothes over the side of the bed, prop herself up, turn around and kill Harry. He's the dark lord's.

Harry's breath is warm. Bellatrix thinks about Narcissa suddenly. Holding up her baby and cooing, Bella, Bella, hold him. Oh, come on, you have to, isn't he just adorable? Isn't he the cutest? Isn't he… A second of Draco staring unblinkingly into her eyes, breathing shallowly in the excitement of meeting someone new. Warm shallow breaths... and then he throws up. But she had had years of Azkaban to forgive him. Seventeen years ago, and it could have been Harry she was holding.

Harry mutters in his dream, begins to stir, his body turning away from hers. She stares at the light, waiting until she knows he will wake; always seemingly before her. There's a jerking motion beside her, and she closes her eyes and relaxes the lids. I'm asleep. I'm asleep. I'm asleep.

He dreamt about Sirius again. A memory. Straddling his godfather's waist, looking down into cold dark eyes on the verge of pleading, his wand pressed hard against Sirius' chest. He had wanted to kill him. Thirteen years of frustration and loss and for seconds he had found a face to blame it all on. He couldn't kill him.

Now Sirius was gone, and his murderer laid beside his godson. Beautiful like Sirius was, but broken too. Like something was broken in Harry. He kept his breathing even while she played with the light. I could do it now. I could kill you right now.

They get up, they stretch, they dress, they leave. Harry ducks his head and leaves two galleons at the front desk. Bellatrix is already out the door. He hurries and catches her in mid-spin, presses his lips hungrily against hers. She tastes like death and when he pulls away life is all the more sweeter. She stares like she knows and backs away, continuing the apparation. Harry blinks and she's gone.

Diagon Alley is soft in the darkness. He walks block after block after block. The shops are silent, and he sees his picture on the posters. Undesirable. Undesirable. He smirks a little and peels one off a window. Well hey, he thinks. At least I'm number one.