Style // Sirius Black

Chapter XLVIII

Her dreams had grown darker again, maniacal laughing echoing around her like a record player. Almost every night since Regulus died, Lyra had woken up in a cold sweat with her head pounding. Sirius never did much about it, never really knowing what to do about it. How could he? No romance book or couples therapy manual contained information about what to do when a Dark Lord was taunting your girlfriend.

"We could at least warn him," Sirius called after her as they both wandered into the empty halls of the home, "That, oh, I don't know, a psychopath is possibly after him?"

"She has been saying that for over a year, Sirius!" Lyra hollered back, not glancing over her shoulder as she trekked to the kitchen, "If Scarlett Avengard wanted James dead, she would have done it by now. Godric knows it's probably not her first time."

"Has your new favourite french man said anything?" Sirius taunted, earning a scoff from the blonde, "What? You write back and forth with him more than you talk to me!"

"You aren't in direct contact with the man threatening our world and the world outside of it, Sirius," Lyra soughed, tugging open the icebox, "Until you do that, not entirely sure what you want me to do."

"Talk to me, maybe?"

"I do talk to you."

"Not like you used to."

Lyra pulled back from the cold reflection of the refrigerator and looked over at her boyfriend with furrowed eyebrows, "Like I used to?"

"You used to have such passion and emotion when you talked to me," Sirius began, "You would pour your heart out and tell me everything. You would laugh when I talked and giggle when I made a bad joke." He wandered over to where she stood, ring-clad fingers brushing her cheekbone and tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

"I–I still do that," she stuttered, gulping as the cold metal of his wrings tickled her skin, "I still laugh when you talk."

"Remember those nights when it was just you and I here, the summer we first got together?" He whispered, breath tickling her nose as he leaned down.

"Mmhm." She bit her lip, eyes trying to focus on his instead of how his lips moved.

"Well," Sirius continued, nose nudging against hers, "We don't have to worry about anyone coming home unannounced."

"Why's that?"

"Because it's just us, mon étoile," he purred, lips brushing across hers tauntingly, "For the rest of time, it's just us."

"You got a woody?"

"Maybe."

"Love me like it's our first summer alone, Sirius Black."

—

The Order of the Phoenix.

A stupid name, in Lyra's opinion, but a name nonetheless. Founded by none other than Albus Dumbledore in an attempt to combat the onslaught of Death Eaters that now ran ramped throughout the Wizarding World. They slid through the hazy July skies and terrorized small villages of Muggles and Wizards alike. Fear of traitors and spies became the norm as the large group of twenty-year-olds gathered in old homes, abandoned churches, and the Potter manor. Matches of yelling and pissing contests became the days that Lyra preferred to those of battles and duels in the streets of the Wizarding World.

Lyra could have sworn she warned James about the risks of unprotected...adult time, but Lily was nearly due, a secret that both James and Lily hid very well from the legilimen of the family and during the final months of Hogwarts. James was to be married, and Lily and Lyra were to become sisters-in-law after years of giggling about it in the hidden corners of Hogwarts before the red-head was ready to admit her feelings. The blonde had wondered if perhaps the two were rushing their wedding because of the increasing severity of the war and the rising speculation of people in their group. That's where most arguments arose, and that's when tensions became taut enough to strangle someone or leave them on the outskirts.