Style // Sirius Black

Chapter LI - Part One

"Lyra's powers aren't always reliable, Sirius," Lily reasoned. The heart in Lyra's chest sunk at the words. They didn't trust her...Lily and James didn't trust her. She pursed her lips and moved closer to the doorway as Lily resumed her thought, "It has been nearly three years, and she still can't tell us what she saw in Peter's head."

"Because Dumbledore took them from her, Evans," her fiancee's tone was accusatory. It was surreal, listening to everything Lyra thought about herself come to the surface from the two people in the world who Lyra thought trusted her completely. James and Lily didn't trust her anymore—she didn't know why. But she had Sirius....Sirius trusted her, "Why do you two trust him so wholeheartedly?"

"It's for the best, Sirius," James interjected, his voice softer than Lily's, "It's for hers and your protection too. Dumbledore says that there's a reason Voldemort's after Lyra—she has something to do with the prophecy Trelawny saw."

"What do you mean?"

"What do you mean?" Lyra snapped as she pushed through the painted green door of the nursery; Harry curled into her side.

"Lyra..." James's voice was feeble and sensitive as his twin emerged into the room, his son twisting the blonde curls that cascaded over her shoulders in his hands, "Dumbledore didn't want to tell you—"

"So he tells you?"

It felt like the end had come. As though the final chapter of the story was being written in front of Lyra without her even knowing. She was oblivious to everything that went on behind the scenes—everything that people didn't tell her. All that she thought she knew, everything that they kept secret from her. Honestly, the younger Potter twin thought she was the one with the knowledge, the one who knew the secrets before everyone else. In reality, it was Lyra who played the pawn in a sick game of chess. Dumbledore was the player—not her.

The bullet slotted itself into her barrel, and Lyra watched as everyone pointed them towards her. Three guns sat pointed at her heart, one of them holding the bullet that sent her overboard. The three that stood in front of her...they were going to be the end of Lyra's story. Through whatever means, either James, Lily, or Sirius would be the one that shot the fatal blow, knocking her backwards with blood gushing from her heart.

"Peter's our secret keeper..." James whispered, "There's a lot we can't tell you two. I ask, one final time, just trust me."

Lyra lifted her gaze to Sirius, who had fury raging in his eyes. He didn't like it; there was something amiss in this final plea from James. Lyra wanted to reach her mind forward and break through the wooden panels blocking her. It had to do with Scarlett, that prophecy, Harry—she wasn't sure if it was all of them or just one. But still, Lyra knew something was being left out of the story. Lyra was in the dark now—and she didn't have the stars to guide her.

"Fine," Lyra whispered, pregnant tears pricking her eyes, "One last time."

"One last time."

—

Lyra stared at the lace decals that decorated the cream-coloured wedding gown. Harry sat in her lap as Lily and James sat awkwardly at the dinner table with Sirius the level below her. She had asked for a few minutes—it had been a day.

It was October 30th, 1981.

She fiddled with the gossamer fabric, rubbing it between her fingers. It was a beautiful piece—long sleeves ran to her middle fingers. It was something out of her wildest dreams—it was so close too. She could taste the festivities, the bright twinkling lights and the celebration in the dark. She wanted it so bad, so desperately. Something so mundane and nostalgic that Lyra thought she'd be bored by it. Not with Sirius—she couldn't be bored with anything that had to do with him.