Style // Sirius Black

Chapter XLIX

Lyra had become comfortable with the war. She'd grown stagnant and passive, relishing in a heartless amenity versus continuously fighting. His death fell into her hands and dyed them red. She couldn't help but feel accountable for it—likewise to how she felt about the youngest Black brother who died a little over a year ago. If she had just been more vigorous, more innovative, or just quicker to the punch, both Regulus and Pierre would still be alive.

Her composure slipped, and her mind unleashed a torrent into that of her lovers. Sirius's hold on her became vice-like as he gripped the back of her neck, enticing the tears from her. Lyra allowed the responsibility of Pierre to rest on her shoulders alone, always insisting that it was her he should communicate with since it was her he was initially tasked to induct into the Death Eater ranks. Most agreed; it was Sirius who stayed wary about it, even after almost a year of this deal being struck.

"You didn't kill him," Sirius whispered. Lyra wasn't sure he was referring to—but didn't feel it mattered. It was two birds with one stone, "Lyra, don't even say you did. He made his own choices; that's not for you to carry."

Lyra shook her head into his chest, gripping at the coat he wore before pulling her head back. She stared at him, noting the purple and blue patch on his cheekbone. The blonde knit her eyebrows together before reaching up, swiping a gentle thumb across the bruised skin. She sighed and took a step backward, taking stock of the grocery bags that Sirius held in his hands.

"It doesn't take six hours to grocery shop," Lyra whispered, her voice still scarcely working, "Where were you, Sirius?"

"You could just look into my head—"

"You know I don't do that without your permission!"

"Always a saint, Lyra Euphemia Potter," Sirius grinned as he placed the bags down and tugged his jacket off, "Got wind of a potential gathering a few miles North—"

"Liar."

"Okay, fine—I apparated to Remus's place, and we went looking," Sirius admitted as he took the sacks into the kitchen, "Then I went grocery shopping."

"I told you to never go without me!" Lyra groaned as she wiped her nose on her jumper sleeve, pursuing after the boy, "I can do a little dive into their heads and see when the next one is."

"It was a last-minute decision."

"Liar!"

"I knew Pierre died!" Sirius exclaimed as he rested his hands on the table, "I—I went by the manor the other day with James—That I did tell you about, don't give me that look—We got into it with a few locals complaining about suspicious-looking people by the manor. One thing led to another; we figured it out."

"And you didn't tell me?"

"Would you have wanted to go see it yourself?"

"Yes!"

"That's why we didn't tell you."

"What do you mean?"

"Lyra," Sirius sighed as he rounded the counter in the middle of the kitchen, "They did it to get you to go—to ambush you and take you out. They know how powerful you are and want you gone. We figured it'd be safer to let you learn about it independently."

Lyra stood frozen at the threshold between the kitchen and the main entrance. Her mind worked a mile a minute as anger and understanding became unlikely lovers in her head. What Sirius said made sense—it was an obvious trap. She also would have liked to have known about their informant being dead and been allowed to react on her own accord. Lyra crossed her arms over her chest and stared at the boy, eyes lowered.