Remus looked at the door leading to Padfoot's room, even as he listened to the head in his fireplace. He understood why Hermione, why Lea, wanted to invite them to the Manor... but it might just be too soon for Sirius to come out of his self-imposed isolation. It had taken much insistence (and a direct request form Severus) to so much as get him to go to the funeral, after all. Hermione had done a wonderful job, from what he heard, of keeping everyone sane and connected. She not only helped Severus, but Draco, helping the blond adjust to his new position of power. Remus had certainly been worried the boy would have trouble filling his friend's role... he remembered their talk, seemingly oh so long ago, before Draco even knew who Horris was. Who Harry Potter was, actually, as it was 'Harry Potter' who was the disguise... Horatius Snape the one it hid. He was sure the boy's adaptation was a testament to her abilities and strong constitution. The question was, could she do the same for Sirius... and him.

"I'll ask him, Hermione," he promised, sighing, "but it's really up to him."

"Horris' death really hit him hard," she agreed, "has he improved any?"

"A little;" he nodded with a strained smile, "at least, I think he is."

"I hope so. None of us can afford to suffer another loss."

"We will try to come," he assured her, not needing to confirm the truth of her last statement.

Remus sunk further into his chair as the fire returned to its normal color, utterly unsure of how he was going to get Sirius to go. Hell, how was he going to get Sirius to even think about going? To go out. Remus agreed that going would be good for the man, and honestly, he wanted to get out of the house himself as well. While he had gone to some meetings with Dumbledore and had kept somewhat in touch with Hermione, he still felt quite out of the loop, as the kids were prone to say.

The man wanted to get back to actually helping the war effort... was itching to at least feel like he was making a difference once more. He wanted to make sure Draco and the Asps were actually all right, fearing Hermione's words might just be to appease his own worries. He wanted to make sure Severus was all right as well, and on that front, he had heard almost nothing, though he had also been hesitant to ask about him directly. Severus, who had tried so hard to do right by his son... who had been willing to let old grievances go so that Horris could be happy, to continue doing so even after his son's death.

Sirius was simply too consumed by grief to willingly go though, and Remus could not discern if making him do so might not do his friend a great injustice. The grief was consuming the man, but forcing him from his morbid contemplations might simply make him withdraw further. And that, he feared, might pull him further than even Sirius who had survived the horrors of Azkaban could ever come back from. And, underneath it all, Remus also feared Sirius might blame Severus for Horris' death... which would make having both men in the same room a really bad idea.

Even if Remus somehow persuaded Sirius to go, he would have to watch him carefully, lest he looses himself. Siri had nearly lapsed into bouts of guilt-driven depression several times already, most notably when they had seen Horris in the Snape family catacombs. Remus shivered as he remembered how distraught Siri was then, shifting back and forth between guilt and anger... wondering how it could all happen, why he had been unable to stop it and why Dumbledore said Horris would be safe thanks to some ruby or crystal... or whatever it was Siri kept moaning over. He had not had the heart to ask him about it, nor did he wish to ask Dumbledore something that may just be a figment of a mentally fragile man's mind. He had stopped mentioning it, at any rate, which made Remus more confident that the ramblings had held no ground in reality.

Blaise scuffed at the ground as he walked through the dungeons. He hated this part of his duties... he split the task with Dean, Zack and Marcus, but every monday he still had to make the woeful trip. He stopped at the cell he had gotten to know far too well for his liking. Each one of its occupants always looked at him as if he was the devil himself... and they did not even know his purpose. All they knew was that every other day an Asp would come and take away one of their number, or dump a new load of Death Eaters after a battle.

They all backed away from the cell door as he pulled it open, none foolish enough to oppose his entrance. They hardly moved as he looked for the one he would take today, and none tried to stop him once he made his choice. The man he picked struggled, yes, but no one tried to help him, nor did the man's own resistance last once Blaise closed the cell door behind them.

They were all Death Eaters, he knew, just as he realized he shouldnt' feel sorry for their fate. Still, at least they were human; fellow wizards.

"Where are we going?" the man asked Blaise with the courage known only to those resigned to their death.

"To feed you, first," Blaise answered, though the act was more efficiency than kindness.

"And then?"

"To feed another."

It made his stomach turn, even as they stopped by the simple wooden table. At least this one did not ask if Asps ate men, for now. He let the man sit and eat, ignoring the fact that this meal was mostly so his blood would be more nutritious. He was too Slytherin to lie to himself... to pretend the meal was some sort of attempt to ease the prisoner's death.

Blaise watched the prisoner feed himself half-heartedly, staring more at the wall opposite the table than actively watching the man eat. Not for the first time, he wondered how Wolf managed when his turn came. The ex-Gryffindor, after all, had far less exposure to cruelty than he did. And yet, somehow, he had yet to see Dean look woeful at his designated task. "Have you finished?" he asked indifferently, eyes shifting to those of the prisoner.

"Would you let me stay if I haven't?"

"Eat your fill."

The vampire could wait, and as far as Blaise was concerned, they should not be feeding the thing at all. The bloodsucker took Horris.

Blaise let the man stall for another ten minutes as he picked at the food before him. There was only so long he could stall before Dean or Draco got wind of it... he had made the vampire wait long enough. He stepped up to the Death Eater, pulling him up by the shoulder. The prisoner made no move to protest, probably realizing he had drawn his meal out long as it was. Blaise did not bother holding onto or watching the man, content to simply walk ahead with little but an order for the prisoner to follow. Blaise could easily hear the quiet footsteps behind him, and honed Aspian reflexes could quickly overtake the Death Eater, were he stupid enough to try to run.

The footsteps remained quite close, however, more likely than not fearing what else might be held within the vast dungeons. The walk took but a couple minutes, all of which the two walked in uninterrupted silence.

"You are late," the vampire stated slowly from the shadows of his cell, drawing out each word.

"Be glad I came at all."

"Not by choice, I see."

"No," Blaise concurred, "definitely not."

"You are to him as much a monster as I, Asp, you realize?"

"A monster's monster, then," Blaise countered with a exaggerated shrug.

"A chair is a chair to all."

Blaise grabbed the man behind him, pushing him through the cell door before the confused man realized his fate. The wards were down only as long as it took him to open the door and push the prisoner inside. As soon as Blaise was sure they were back up and whole, he left. He did not wish to hear the screams. Again.

"You all right?"

"Not really," he answered Dean just as he was turning towards the corridor leading out of the blasted maze, probably looking as pale as always after doing his duty, "but I will be."

"I know you don't agree with Draco's decision to keep him around..."

"He took Horris from us," Blaise confirmed, glaring back down the passage leading to the bloodsucker's cell. He could swear the thing had gained weight since its capture... hell, it was probably quite content with being catered to.

"Vampires hold high their debts, Blaise, you know that."

"I don't care," he brushed off the statement,

"You should."

"You sympathize with him so much, one might fear you'll set him free one day..." Blaise growled, "your mind has been hazed by those damn books you read so much." Hell, he doubted even Hermione knew so much about the suckers now.

"I will, Blaise," Dean acknowledged, for a moment flaring Blaise's temper, "as soon as Draco orders me to, I will."

And suddenly, Blaise could think of nothing more to say... as if Dean had opened some cosmic drain within him.

"Draco wants to speak with you," Dean added, revealing the reason for his presence so close to the bloodsucker, "I suggest you collect yourself before you go."

"I-"

"Just go." Dean insisted, a finality in his words.

Properly chastised, Blaise made his way up into the Manor proper, thankfully passing only a couple Asps, both of which knew better than to speak to him after he had been dealing with the bloodsucker. He needed to collect himself as Wolf had said, and he couldn't do that if others kept giving him the opportunity to rekindle his anger by asking that he tell them why he seemed upset. He definitely did not want to see Dragon in this state... especially if Dean had gone out of his way to remind him of that.

Lately, Dean proved the best reader of Draco, short of Hermione, though Blaise had no idea when the ex-Gryff had learned to do so. He didn't envy Dean's job... though he remembered a time when Blaise himself was the one who knew Draco so well. On second thought, he took it back, he did know. It all boiled down to Dean being Gryffindor enough to step up and do what he saw needed to be done... to help Draco even as he was barely keeping it together himself. Strong enough and determined enough to help keep everything in order. And, apparently, he was going to keep doing so.

"You asked for me, Draco?" he asked, once he had walked through the already open door,

"Blaise," he was greeted, ushered to sit in on of the chairs with a wave, "how are you?"

"all right, I guess..."

"Do you want to trade duties with someone else?" his Beta probed further,

"Duties?" Had Dean-

"Dean told me you dislike working with the vampire. I can assign someone else."

"He took Horris, Draco, of course I hate him!" Blaise insisted, "We should be torturing it, not feeding the damn thing..." Then, after taking a deep breath, he added "I can handle the damn feeding duty; I'm not some child incapable of doing what I don't like."

"It's not that I don't trust you to keep it together, Blaise," Draco insisted, "you know that."

"Then-"

"I need your help."

"With what?" Blaise asked, edgy. If this was some friendly favor, a way to let him off feeding duty with his pride intact, he was sure he had rather just be told that Draco did not trust him to keep it together after all.

"You know I can thread spells..." Draco told him softly, not waiting for confirmation, "I know you can deconstruct transient experiences."

"Threading is entering one's memories or looking through one's eyes though... there's nothing to interpret!" Blaise insisted slowly, not understanding what exactly Draco wanted.

"That's usually true. However, no matter how many times I recall the experience, I can't understand it anymore than I did while threading it."

"Who's thread?"

"The Phoenix."

"I don't know any symbolic threading experiences, Draco; I've nothing to contrast it against."

"I have the memory in my pensive, Blaise, please try to look through it... I need to know why this threading is so strange. Why this 'Phoenix' could shoot a simple hex right through my Aspian defenses."

Blaise looked at Draco for a moment, trying to absorb what Draco had just said before nodding slowly. The Phoenix had certainly shaken the Asps... even those that have not heard of how this new player bested their Beta. That he could fire curses through their shields instead of shattering them first scared him to no end. The latter took power... the former, well, the former should be impossible without their intentional yielding.

Slowly, he leaned over the shimmering liquid, looking back to Draco before entering the pensive.

"Should we go together?" he asked,

"Think it would help, Blaise?"

"I haven't seen a thread memory, I wouldn't know what was odd and what was normal."

"all right," his Beta agreed, "but I can tell you right now, there is practically nothing normal in that memory."

"Still, I'd rather have someone to run a commentary when needed," Blaise insisted, knowing he would probably need to watch the memory several times to make much of anything out of it.

"Is it supposed to be this green?" he asked as soon as the memory formed,

"No. Usually, the thread connects directly to the caster's optic nerve."

"Is this all you saw?"

"I thought I saw something more there, towards the end," Draco offered, "but by then I was so desperate to see something, I might have imagined it altogether."

"There?" Blaise pointed, walking towards the spot once Draco confirmed the location. He would not be able to see what Draco's eyes had not detected, but what he saw would remain unchanged by his mind's interpretation. "There is something," he confirmed, "but the fog's too thick to make it out."

"It will lift some, I think."

"What did you make of this?" he asked, not turning back to face his Beta. Draco had made it clear they had time... but he would not miss any clues whatever was there could give him. He listened to Draco's response with half an ear, hearing and understanding, but refraining from contemplating it until a later time. Then, just as he noticed a lifting of the fog, Draco quieted as well.

Blaise trained his eyes to pierce the fog, trying to make out the shape beyond. A lumpy object, he figured, oscillating, perhaps? But then, as the fog thinned further, it was no longer a lumpy mess at all. Not an object, but a body- somebody shifting positions as he slept. He could go no closer, so the fog was still too thick to make out much beyond that, but it was certainly the silhouette of a person. The Phoenix, Blaise figured.

"Draco, do-" he began to ask, but the memory had ended, and he found himself gasping as his mind left the pensive instead. Damn, but he hated leaving Pensives while speaking... always made him feel like he was drowning.

"You alright?"

"Fine," he coughed, "did you see it, Draco?"

"The lumps?"

"It was somebody... stirring. Waking up or shifting in his sleep, I don't know. Your Phoenix, I assume, based on who's mind you were in.

Draco was silent for a minute, Blaise keeping quiet as his Beta worked things out.

"Any idea what that could mean?" Blaise was asked, eventually,

"Not really..." he confessed in answer, "normally I'd say the body would represent the subconscious self... but here, that's not possible."

"You sure?"

"If he was asleep, you'd have been pulled into a dream, right? And if he was awake, his consciousness would be in control."

"Could it be mind control?"

"None that I've heard of..." Blaise insisted, "even those can't clear a mind so fully... and if we were in a dream, I'd expect the body to be chained or something at least. Occulemcy?"

"No, I've been stopped by that before; it wasn't like this."

"I'll try to figure it out, Draco," he assured,

"Thanks."

"Are you ready?"

"Yes, My Lord," he answered, bowing. And then, with a smirk behind his mask, he added, "I will enjoy it."

He rose, smoothly taking his place among the Death Eaters with his head held high. His mask, shielding as it was, could not fully hide his pleasure with the given task. Finally, finally he would able to step out of the shadows and claim his rightful place. A place, he noted smugly, no other had been strong enough to claim when it had been offered. He listened as his Master gave varied tasks to others, punishing the idiots who dared fail and displeasure Him, joining in his Master's satisfaction at the sounds of their pained penance.

When everyone had been dismissed, he stayed without being told to, knowing his Master wished to speak with him alone by the look He gave him while dismissing the others.

"You wished to speak with me, My Lord?"

"Persseptive, young one," his Master noted, to which the boy bowed in thanks, "come."

He approached his Master calmly, having foregone his fear long ago. After the boy had proved himself, the Master had been most kind and lenient. He would do his best now to never earn his Master's displeasure... though he knew it would be far harder for himself to do so than some ordinary Death Eater or those like Malfoy who had failed to raise their own spawn correctly.

Of those, several had been killed outright for allowing his Master's Asps to turn rogue. Snape, of course, had run and hid in his manor, then that other school. They would kill him, soon enough. Malfoy and a select few others had sidestepped death by the skin of their teeth... losing their elevated status in the process, of course, which served his ascent just fine.

"My Aspssss have become too ssecure; I believe itssss time they were reminnnnded I ssstill hold their very livesss in my hanndsss."

"Name your medicine, Master, and I promise to deliver it swiftly."

"Not yetss, young one," his Master chuckled, "for now, ssimply unssssettle them; ssshow how little power they possesssss without my sssuport."

"Name it, Master, and it will be done."

"The girl, young one, the girl they sssso revere."

"Shall I kill her, Master?"

"Not quite."