The Last Gryffindor (Sirius Black)

Chapter XXI: Three Summer Days

She fought harder than she ever had in my life to regain control, but it was like fighting chains dragging her to the ocean floor. She was drowning, taunted by the effervescent light of the surface, growing further out of reach by the second.

Kill! Kill! Kill! Kill! KILL!

Sirius took a daring step forward, unaware of the increased tempo of the voice screaming at her to end his life. He made a wild grab for her hand, but didn't make it close enough before she finally spoke. Except it was actually Lia.

"Avada Kadavra!"

The look on his face before the words even fully escaped her lips was past shock. Wide eyes flickered up to meet her, not enough time even to be consumed with fear. His deep, ebony eyes, usually alight with such humour and mischief, would lose everything about them that made them beautiful.

A slight twitch. That was all that it took to send the fatal spell catapulting far away from Sirius, grazing a stray strand of his hair as it whizzed by.

Lia lost all strength in her legs and collapsed, though the collision with the ground barely registered in her fatigue-addled mind. Sirius soon followed, a string of profanities spilling like a river from his mouth. She almost laughed at the ridiculously creative combinations of curses he strung together, but was too far gone to react.

I nearly murdered my oldest friend, she thought numbly.

"I thought you were really gonna do it," Sirius gasped, after his lengthy stream of curses finally dried up.

"You idiot, I really did do it," she muttered back. "I fired the curse, didn't I? What were you thinking, just standing there! I think I might still murder you now just because you're so damn stupid."

"Nice to see you're back to your old self, quite the little ray of sunshine," he said sarcastically, nudging her in the shoulder from where he laid himself beside her.

She shoved him away and, abruptly, he sobered up, remembering the reality of their situation. They weren't what they used to be. She'd left him behind to pursue revenge, but for all he knew, she abandoned all their friends in order to conquer the world. Everything was different now. It took everything not pull him closer, but she had a reputation to upkeep.

Death Eater, she reminded herself. You're a Death Eater right now. Hugging doesn't exactly fit the whole menacing denizen of evil schematic.

"Who did that to you?" he asked, after a few moments of heavy silence.

"I did," she answered immediately, well aware that that was in no way the answer he was looking for. "At least, it's my fault."

He leaned over to pinch her cheek in a way not unlike how an annoying, estranged aunt might pinch the cheeks of a helpless niece or nephew. Lia pushed him back, yet again, trying to reclaim the lost space between them.

"I should send you to the pound," she muttered under her breath.

"Don't even try to pretend you somehow managed to Impirius yourself, girly. No one, except for perhaps Wormtail, would be daft enough to actually believe it." Lia opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off, placing a calloused finger to her lips. "It's none of my business. That's what you were going to say, am I right? Merlin's beard, you're like a bloody broken record."

His inflammatory words were somewhat undercut by the roguish grin spread across his face. What could make him so happy, Lia had no idea.

Looking away so she didn't succumb to the urge to bicker, Lia pointed out, "I think you said someone told you to be here tonight, right? Well, it wasn't me. You should probably find them."

She had her own business to attend to, and Sirius would only get on the way. Lia wasn't even speaking to him and somehow he still almost managed to get killed because of her! It only proved her point that she had to distance herself from her old life and the people in it, lest they be plagued with misfortune. It would be best if they both went their separate ways, once and for all.

Not to make light of a troublesome situation, but being on the receiving end of the Imperius Curse seriously interfered with her plans. First things first, Lia had to find out what day it was, and more specifically, how many days she had lost. Would Voldemort know that she broke the curse? Was it safe to go back if he did? Why did he place it on her in the first place? Just considering all the unknown variables made her head pound in protest. This scheme was becoming more complicated than she ever thought it would be when she swore to kill Voldemort those many months ago. How simple she imagined it to be seemed laughable now.

"I got an owl... it told me to look for you, and that you'd be here now."

Her whole body stiffened as she mulled over the implications. Clearly someone had kept close tabs on her. They must have known she was Impiriused. Had they lured Sirius there in hopes she might murder him?

"Curious indeed," she responded, growing increasingly worried.

Lia tried to cover the cough the moment she felt it coming on, but to no avail. Her robes weren't nearly thick enough to muffle the noise.

"What the hell is that? What's wrong?" Sirius demanded, dark brows narrowed worry. He tentatively leaned forward. "Are you sick?"

"It's nothing. A cold," she replied, dully, trying to catch her breath. "And really none of your business, I might add."

To her surprise, he didn't seem angry at the deflective answer, but instead rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"I don't get you. You'd think I'd be the mad one, considering how you tried to blast a hole through my head not ten minutes ago." He barked out a disbelieving laugh. "But no, by all means, snap at me all you want."

"Almost." she corrected, grudgingly, looking anywhere but him. "I almost tried. And the killing curse doesn't leave any marks. Your head would be just fine, excluding the fact that I'm pretty sure there is nothing in it to begin with."

"That's the spirit," he sighed, a look of exasperation crossing his face, as he rose unsteadily to his feet. "C'mon, this isn't the best place to talk. We should move somewhere with less..." he paused, searching for the right word, "muggles."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Lia told him, softly. "I'm going back to Voldemort. Nothing has changed."

"Don't you mean Lord Voldemort?" he asked, a rueful smile playing at his lips. "That is what all of his loyal followers call him, right? Which you most certainly are, of course. Calling your master simply 'Voldemort' is awfully impertinent, don't you think? A funny mistake to make for one so devoted."

When she said nothing, he reached out a hand to take her own. Electricity danced between their intertwined fingers, and only too late she recognized the warping of space as he tightened his grip, Apparating them away.