Dana Diggory is led deeper into the depths of temptation as she forms an unlikely bond with her new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor during a whirlwind of her final year at Hogwarts.
Little does she know that Remus Lupin's growing fondness fo...
"I CAN HARDLY SAY I'M JUMPING WITH joy to see you either." Dana confessed, attempting to act calm as she looked at the very wizard every Auror in the country was searching for.
Her heart was drumming against her chest. Chill the fuck out, Dana. You're not going to die. She repeated the words until she half believed them, trying to overlook the fact that she was face to face with a known murderer.
"Go ahead, run to Dumbledore." said Black bitterly, waving a tired hand in her direction. She couldn't tell if it was a test. "I'd expect nothing less."
Dana waited, but he made no effort to move. In fact, he didn't appear to be very threatening at all and she just stood there, bemused. Shouldn't he have been raring up for an attack right about now?
Deciding to match his nonchalance attitude, she stuffed her hands into the pockets of her travelling cloak and leant up against the chipped frame of the door. He now seemed just as perplexed by her behaviour.
"You don't look much like your posters. Far less intimidating." she mused, subtle curiosity on her face now. "Shouldn't you be trying to kill me or something?"
Sirius's untrusting eyes clocked onto Dana's, surveying her with interest. Quite frankly, he thought she'd be running away or hurtling hexes at him by now— both of which had naturally crossed her mind. Her hand continued to clutch tightly onto the wand within her pocket.
"Unusual thing, aren't you?" he stated rather than asked, using a finger to play with the tangled mess of his beard. "To answer your question, I'm wandless for a start, and I'd never kill a fly."
She shrugged, "Flies can be a right pain in the arse."
"Oh, try leaving with fleas. They're murder." Black's mouth twinged upwards ever so slightly, hardly remembering the last time he had heard dry humour.
Dana edged further into the damp room, their gaze never once leaving each other— like wild animals, cautiously waiting for the other to suddenly pounce.
Yet the more she looked at him, the more she convinced herself that he was too weak to do much damage at all. Decaying yellow teeth, hollow face, ghostly pale skin. Sirius had wasted away so much over the past few years that the filthy striped prison uniform actually draped around his thinning frame. Dana almost pitied him until she remembered who he was.
A large piano stood in the middle of the room, half of its keys missing and covered in a layer of grime just like everything else. Next to Sirius was a cold, ash filled fireplace with a murky mirror hanging high above it. A grand four poster bed stood on a platform at the back, and Dana was quite convinced it would collapse into a dusty heap of pillows and blankets at any given moment.
