Beauty in The Dirt -The Magic Behind Doors-

Number 12 Grimmuald Place

Not at all out of character for Aislinge, for her name means "a vision" or "a dream". This personified her not only as a beautiful woman in peril, but a witch with the power to see the future. She dappled in the art of divination and saw her husband coming before he even knew she existed. It was A witch and wizard pairing to put all others to shame. With each of their qualities and gifts, they were a tight knit family very much devoted... very much in love. Especially after they gave birth to their son Aomar Avery. A name he wouldn't go by, but a diminutive form meaning guardian. His family loved him, but they loved their abilities as well. They were always busy amongst each other in their creations. Or busy loving each other in embraces and kisses a child shouldn't see. Aislinge, forever in tune with the visions of what has yet to come to pass, would on more than one occasion succumb to depression. It would radiate on the level of a Dementor.
Avery didn't find this part of his life appealing. So much sadness pinned against the love his parents had, he felt alone despite the attention they gave him. Even young, he craved for what his parents had. Thus, the reason he didn't fancy himself around them. Cassiopeia was his reason to live, so he'd follow her to no end, just like his father had done for his mother and if he was lucky, one day they would be together and as happy as his parent's always were. Only he'd never give her reason to fall prey against the evil that depression is.

He figured that's why he'd managed to unconsciously arrive at Number 12 Grimmuald Place after his stormy withdrawal from Cassiopeia. His home away from home. The place was filled with memories. Memories he wanted to torture himself with, so hopefully it would be the rule to end his madness for one conniving, disrespectful, beautiful, sexy, ravenous, perfect for him, person. Cassiopeia Black.

See! He couldn't even bash her without resorting to the traits he loved about her. He had it bad and despite the danger, irrational, hasty decision to try and make his way inside The Black House-- he felt he must, to put an end to his turmoil.

One problem stood in his way to accomplish that goal.

After Sirius Black was murdered by Bellatrix Lestrange during the Battle of the Department of Mysteries, the house in question was inherited by Padfoots godson, Harry Potter. Thus, Kreacher was now under the Harry Potter Gits orders. 'The Chosen One' had continued to allow the Order of the Phoenix to use Cassi's old home as a safe house. Which made what Avery was about to do, completely reckless and without thought. He hadn't really planned on standing so close, but without knowing- he had made his way to the front of Number 11 and 13. Building 12 now hidden to all those without permission. With such high guard's and no telling how many of the Order actually resided inside, he was forced to his knees at the curb, his face resting in his palms. He wanted to go in so badly, but the way his night was going- he wasn't all to surprised that another blow would beseech him.

Flecks of snow dampened his hair, his knees squishy wet from the icy ground. He didn't know how long he'd stayed in that position, but a scratching, gangly voice intruded on his pouting.

"Master Avery?"

He looked up from the solace of his palms, coming face to face with a floppy ear, hunched back house-elf.

"Kreacher?"

The elf bowed in his rags, his abnormally large ears dragging the icy earth.

"How can Kreacher be of service to you Master Avery?"

Eyes the color of an Angry Sun- In their depths, Hope beamed to light. He was on his feet, leaning closer to Kreacher.

"I want to go inside. I just want to look around. Memories and Memoirs, you know. I won't be any trouble. Just a peek. Can you get me in?"

Kreacher fidgeted his ratty cloth and spoke in his low raspy voice.
"Kreacher serves Harry Potter and his blood traitor friend, and that filthy mud-blood Now!"