Harry moaned. He didn't feel good. Faintly, he heard an apparition pop. Could it be that Bellatrix had returned, or was he fever dreaming again?
"You're up," came Bellatrix's voice through the dark of the room.
"Thirsty," Harry mumbled.
"We'll see to it," Bellatrix said, obviously struggling to sound cheerful. Soon, she had a cup filled with cool water up to Harry's lips. He struggled to sip it. Once he had signified that he was satisfied, she withdrew and was soon back with some potions. "You stocked your safe boxes well," Bellatrix commented softly. "We've got enough potions to last you a few days."
Fuzzily, Harry forced himself to sip the potions she was proffering him because he knew they would help him feel better. It was not long before she finished the round of potions and helped him settle into the bed. Vaguely, he sensed her cast a transfiguration charm on the bed, making it wider.
She must have detected a confused expression on his face, for she defended her actions. "We're married now, Harry. There's no point in being shy, especially now that you're going to need me looking after you as much as possible."
In all honesty, Harry was too sleepy to care or even seriously think about the situation, but he was nevertheless very appreciative to feel Bellatrix slip into the bed and gingerly cuddle up next to him. It felt very comforting. In a matter of seconds, he fell asleep and slept peacefully-aided by some of the potions she had administered.
.....
"My lady!" a squeaky voice demanded. "My lady!"
Bellatrix cracked open her eyes and stared blearily at Kreacher who was standing on the foot of her and Harry's bed near where her feet were under the blankets. "What is it, Kreacher?" she mumbled, still too tired to consider seriously waking up for the day.
"Mistress Walburga is dead," Kreacher announced.
Bellatrix's breath caught and her eyes shot open. "What?"
"Mistress ordered me to hang her portrait in the hall and then killed herself," Kreacher proclaimed.
"That old biddy," Bellatrix sighed, closing her eyes again. She should have anticipated that her aunt would rather die than be subjected to the humiliation of taking orders from her niece. She should have predicted it and instructed Kreacher to ensure that she did not commit suicide.
"What is Kreacher to do?" the house elf asked.
Bellatrix groaned. She really wanted to go back to bed. As she considered the options, Bellatrix absently, reached out to Harry's sleeping form to check whether he had a fever. He would need more potions sooner than later.
"Mistress?"
"Is Sirius still alive?"
"He is," Kreacher affirmed, sounding rather scandalized.
Bellatrix recalled seeing the night before that Walburga had apparently burned Sirius from the tapestry. Walburga had probably indoctrinated her house elf against her son. A lot of good it had done. Orion's "will" had provided that Sirius inherit Grimmauld Place after his mother's death.
"You'll be taking orders from him because he now owns the house," Bellatrix told Kreacher. "Go to him and inform him of his mother's passing. Remember that I wasn't there last night and that for all you know, Bellatrix Black has been dead for twenty years."
"And the portrait?" Kreacher asked.
"If you like it, you can keep it up as long as you want," Bellatrix grumbled, rolling over to find a more comfortable position in the bed. "Now, get out of here."
.....
A sheet draped over the couch shielded Walburga's corpse from view. Walburga had chosen to poison herself via a goblet of wine. Walburga had left the goblet on a side table, and Professor Dumbledore had cast a spell around the goblet to prevent it from being disturbed until appropriate Ministry officials could arrive and examine it. Sirius and his wife, Cassie, were standing in front of the couch, staring down at Walburga's covered body. They were having an argument.
"I don't care how expensive the couch is," Sirius said. "We're getting rid of it."
"It's a really good couch," Cassie retorted. "They don't make them that well anymore."
"My mother hosted Death Eaters in this house all the time!" Sirius declared. "Voldemort could have sat on this couch. Do you want to be sitting on a couch where Voldemort might have sat and where my mother offed herself?"
"Do you really think Voldemort would sit on a couch next to someone?" Cassie retorted. "If you're going by that argument, we may as well get rid of all the furnishings. We can't afford that."
"We could auction off the couch. Tons of people would want to buy it," Sirius defended. "We could turn a profit on lots of this stuff."
Cassie shook her head, but was spared from answering when her sixteen-year-old son burst into the room.
"Guess what?" Leo said loudly.
"What?" Sirius asked, returning the enthusiasm.
"Professor Dumbledore says that someone other than the elf and the old bag was in the house last night. He thinks that she might have been murdered!"
"Leo! Show some respect for your dead grandmother." Cassie scolded.
"Leo, I forbid you to refer to that thing as your grandmother," Sirius said seriously.
Professor Dumbledore entered the room and was promptly assailed by Sirius's wife. "Is it true that you think that Sirius's mother was murdered?"
"I am not entirely sure," Dumbledore said. "However, there are definitely suspicious circumstances. The burned remains of the Black tapestry are particularly noteworthy. I do not think your mother would have done that herself. I also detect a recent magical signature that was different from that of your mother's. Perhaps the house elf could shed further light on the situation. Sirius, would you summon him?"
"Kreacher!" Sirius barked. "Get up here!"
....
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