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The Raven's Song	By : Quills Category: HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters > Het - Male/Female Views: 6265 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Lyra leaned forward and stared intently at her old headmaster. “I want in. If he’s coming back, I want to fight. Anything you need, I’ll do it.”

Dumbledore smiled, his blue eyes sparkling from behind the half-moon glasses that were so comfortingly familiar to Lyra. Though it had been two long years since she left Hogwarts, meeting with him today felt like coming home after all she had been through in the interim. That brief comfort, though, had been swiftly destroyed by the words he had had to say.

The elderly wizard had told her that Voldemort had returned. Impossible though his tale had been, she trusted him implicitly – and even if she did not, the horror in his eyes when he had spoken of all that had happened at the culmination of the Triwizard Tournament could not be falsified. She had been filled with a fierce determination to do whatever she could to defeat him even before Dumbledore had proceeded to speak of the Order of the Phoenix. He had told her everything they had done in the First War and all they intended to do in the Second War it seemed was coming; and Lyra already knew she would be accepting his invitation to join them.

Dumbledore leaned forward. “I hoped you would be willing to join us, but I did not like to presume. Shall I tell you what it is I hope you can do for us, Lyra?”

“Please,” she said instantly.

“We need your assistance. It seems likely that my venerable colleagues will soon see fit to have me removed as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.”

“No!”

He smiled again, but this time there was a distinct hint of sadness behind it. “I am afraid so. Now, all is not lost. Elphias Doge will remain on the council, and he too is a member of the Order. However, I fear that the smaller, some would say insignificant details I need to hear will pass him by – either by deliberate concealment or the limits that are unfortunately placed upon him by his age. That is where you come in.”

Lyra bit her lip, nervous and uncertain as to how much help she could be. “But Professor –“

Dumbledore held up one hand. “Call me Albus, Lyra. We are teacher and student no longer, after all.”

She blushed, but did as he asked. “Very well. Albus, I don’t know that I can do that much to help. I’m just a part of the administration. I don’t have any influence on the council, as well you know.”

“It’s not influence I need, just information. Lyra, you were chosen for a difficult and responsible role in the Wizengamot administration at the tender age of twenty because you have an astute and intelligent head upon your shoulders. You will see and hear all that happens behind the scenes, all of the intrigue that might otherwise pass by unnoticed – and that, my dear girl, is what the Order need to know about. That is what you can do to help.”

She did not even need to think about it. Her parents had both been killed in the war with Voldemort, leaving her an orphan at the age of only four. If he was truly coming back – and if Dumbledore said it was so, she believed him – then Lyra wanted to do anything and everything she could to stop him. It seemed that joining the Order was the best way to do precisely that.

“Then consider it done, Albus. Anything and everything you need me to do, I’ll do it. I’ve got no ties, no-one to answer to – I won’t hold back from taking any risks that need to be taken,” she said grimly.

“Another reason why I hoped you would agree to join us, Lyra. I make no pretensions about this; it is a dangerous business, and it would be foolish to hope that all of us will survive this. I would far rather ask those with no dependents to risk their lives – though truth be told, I wish I did not have to ask anyone at all. So, here we are.” With a briskness that belied his age, the headmaster leapt to his feet and offered her his arm. “Shall we, Lyra?”

“Are we going somewhere else, Albus?”

“Indeed we are. The Order has recently created a headquarters – a base for operations, if you will. If you are to join, then that is where we must go to meet the others and have you sworn in.”

With a thrill of anticipation, she took the proffered arm and held onto tightly, expecting to be pulled away by the familiar rush of Apparition. Before they left, though, Dumbledore spoke again.

“Listen to me carefully, Lyra, and remember my words. The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix can be found at 12, Grimmauld Place.”

She mouthed the address over and over, committing it to memory and keeping it foremost in her mind even as the headmaster guided her through the Apparition that would take her there. When they came to a halt under the shadow of a towering chestnut tree that marked the middle of a square of rundown houses, Lyra looked up to see number twelve emerging from between its neighbours.

Dumbledore touched her hand to regain her attention as they walked towards it. “There is one more thing I should tell you before we go in, Lyra,” he said lightly. “The Order is comprised of a myriad of witches and wizards from the whole spectrum of society, many of whom you perhaps might not expect to be working together. However, if you trust me then accept that I would gladly place my life in the hands of any and all of them.”

“I do trust you, Albus,” she assured him, quickly stifling the brief flash of unease she had felt with his words. Far too used to working on her own and relying upon only herself, Lyra was belatedly realising that not only would she have to trust the other members of the Order, but she would have to take joint responsibility for their safety. There was no time to dwell upon her new concern, though, for Dumbledore was already leading the way up the narrow stone steps to the foreboding townhouse in front of them.

He rapped smartly on the door and then stepped back with a swift smile to allow her to stand on the top step and wait for it to swing open. When it did, Lyra found herself looking up into the face of the man whose image had haunted a thousand posters across the land only a year before. Sirius Black’s prematurely lined face was no longer filled with the crazed rage that had terrified the wizarding world upon his escape, but the ghost of all he had seen and endured was etched into every pore. The top buttons of his shirt were undone to expose the prison tattoos on his chest and his dark, curling hair fell around his face when he tilted his head to warily look at her.

A slight frown creased her newly flushed face when their eyes met and his seemed to darken. Though the horrors of all that he must have gone through in Azkaban were reflected with painful clarity in their grey depths, something far more compelling was responsible for the way that they had darkened to resemble storm clouds that stormed and raged with ever more ferocity. Lyra was captivated. Her lips parted and she swallowed hard as she took a slow step towards him, but before she could speak Dumbledore ushered her inside and the moment was gone.

Sirius stood back and allowed them to silently pass by all the portraits that lined the walls before closing the door and following in their wake. None of them spoke until they turned into a small, empty parlour. Dust hung heavy in the air, an inch thick on every surface and dimming the faint light that came in through the streaked windows from the street outside.

“So,” Dumbledore said brightly as Lyra glanced across at the still silent Sirius once more. “Here we are, Lyra – this is headquarters. Time for introductions, I think.”

She mutely nodded, still unsettled by the dizzying rush that had captured her upon entering the house.

“Superb. Sirius, this is Lyra Menadue. Doubtless you will remember me mentioning her at yesterday’s meeting?”

“Of course,” Sirius finally said, his voice low.

“Of course. Lyra, as you have no doubt realised this is Sirius Black. I give you my word that whatever you have read in the papers or heard at the Ministry, Sirius is entirely innocent of all crimes that have been attributed to him.” Dumbledore’s smile had been replaced by a sombre intensity that had Lyra nodding even before she realised what she was doing.

“I believe you,” she said simply. Sirius’s eyes widened, a heavy weight seeming to lift away from him with her declaration. Lyra’s breath hitched when he took a hesitant step towards her, but whatever words she thought he had been about to speak died on his lips. He hung back and exhaled deeply when Dumbledore looked at him again.

“So who else is here tonight, Sirius?”

“Quite a few of us. Molly and Arthur, Kingsley, Elphias, Tonks – oh, and Remus arrived about five minutes before you did. I think he wants a word when you get a chance, Albus.”

“Then I shall make time for him before we eat. Will you take Lyra through to the dining hall and ask Remus to come here to see me?”

Sirius glanced across at her again and Lyra found herself unhanded by a sharp twist of desperate desire. Dumbstruck, she could form no words with her suddenly dry mouth and was deeply grateful when he turned his penetrating stare back to the seemingly oblivious headmaster. “Sure. I take it Lyra’s in, then?”

“As I expected she needed next to no persuasion, much to my relief.” Dumbledore tipped his hat to her before settling down into the least dusty of the sunken armchairs that had been pushed back against the wall. “We will take care of the formalities after dinner, I think. For now, Molly’s excellent cooking and a further round of introductions await you, Lyra. I will leave you in Sirius’s capable hands.”

She knew that a hot flush was blazing its way across her face as the idea of being in Sirius’s hands awoke a thousand dark, erotic images to tumble through her mind. There was nothing she could do to stop or restrain them, for she found she had never wanted any man as much as she now wanted the grim and enigmatic fugitive at her side. Afraid that her eyes would betray her she dropped them to stare at the threadbare carpet and moved towards the door, eager for the distraction that meeting the rest of the Order would be.

Sirius too had started for the door. They reached for the handle at the same time and his fingers closed around her hand. Lyra froze and twisted her head to stare up at him, her stomach giving a wild leap when she saw how tense his body had become. His hand still lay on top of hers, but she could not pull away from him; it was all she could do to resist the temptation to move closer.

He stared down at their hands, but as she thought he was about to speak a delicate cough from behind them brought her hurtling back to her senses. Dizzy and uncomfortably hot, Lyra pulled her hand away and threw an anxious glance towards the mercifully impassive Dumbledore, who was staring out of the window and humming quietly underneath his breath.

With a low, barely perceptible groan Sirius swept his hair back out of his face and wrenched the door open. He placed his hand on her shoulder to guide her through the now open doorway, and she had to clench her lips tightly together to control herself. Even that gentlest and chastest of touches through her jacket had been enough to send a fresh twist of fire coursing through her feverish body.

As Sirius led her through the dark and narrow hallways of the Order’s headquarters, Lyra could pay no attention to either her surroundings or even the life-changing revelations that had been imparted upon her in the last hour. Much to her consternation, all she could think of was Sirius and how much her body craved his touch.

It was a longing that she could not submit to, especially now. She could not afford any distraction, and wizards like Sirius were dangerous; she had been hurt too badly in the past to open herself up to that again for the sake of mere physical passion, no matter how strongly she suspected that in Sirius’s arms she would find more pleasure than with any other man before him.

It could not and would not be.
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The Raven's Song