A Broken Inheritance

Chapter 1: A Broken Inheritance

"Good," Anastasia shot back, her own eyes blazing with anger. "I don't need your trust. I just need to make sure he's okay."

"Enough, both of you," Euphemia interjected, her tone firm. She turned to James. "James, guide Anastasia to the bathroom. She needs to clean up."

Anastasia shook her head. "No, I'm not leaving him."

"Dear, Sirius is in good hands," Euphemia insisted gently. "He needs some space to heal right now. And also, I'd like you to stop tracking blood all over my house," she added with a small smile.

Anastasia hesitated, torn between staying with Sirius and respecting Euphemia's request. Finally, she nodded, her movements stiff and reluctant.

"Fine," she muttered, casting one last worried glance at Sirius before following James out of the room.

As they walked down the hallway, James remained silent, his hostility palpable. Anastasia could feel his suspicion like a physical weight, but she refused to justify herself or offer any explanations.

Reaching the bathroom, James opened the door and stepped back, his eyes never leaving her. "Clean up," he said curtly. "Then we need to talk."

Anastasia paused in the doorway, her expression defiant. "As I said, I don't owe you any explanations, Potter."

James's jaw tightened. "Maybe not. But if you want to stay here, you're going to have to give me a reason not to throw you out."

She met his gaze with equal intensity. "I'm here because Sirius needed help. That's all you need to know. I'll be out of here as soon as he's stable."

James stared at her for a moment longer before nodding sharply. "Just clean up. We'll talk after."

Anastasia entered the bathroom and closed the door, leaning against it for a moment as she took a deep breath. She barely registered her reflection in the mirror—her face pale, shadows dark beneath her eyes, blood drying against her collarbone.

She turned on the tap, watching the water swirl red as she scrubbed her hands clean.

The warmth of it—the feeling of Sirius' blood still lingering against her skin—sent a strange shiver down her spine.

For a fleeting second, she thought she felt—

No.

She shook her head, pushing the thought away.

It was nothing.

It was just exhaustion.

That was all.

Turning on the tap, she began to wash away the blood, her mind racing. She didn't know what would happen next, but she knew one thing for certain: she would do whatever it took to protect Sirius, even if it meant facing James's suspicion and hostility head-on.

When Anastasia finally emerged from the bathroom, she hurriedly went back to Sirius' side only to find Fleamont Potter tending to Sirius by himself. As she quietly approached the sleeping boy, Mr. Potter placed a comforting hand on Anastasia's shoulder. "Thank you for bringing him here," he said, his voice warm with gratitude. "It's clear you care for him deeply."

Anastasia nodded, unable to find her voice, her eyes never leaving Sirius's face. The room was filled with a tense silence, broken only by Sirius's shallow breaths.

A couple of hours later, James emerged from a long discussion with his mother about their plan to rescue Sirius from his deranged family. The plan was still taking shape, but their determination to protect Sirius was unwavering. James made his way to the room where Sirius was resting, his mind still racing with thoughts and worries.