Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Hold on Tight	By : cls2256 Category: HP Canon Characters paired with Original Characters > Het - Male/Female Views: 7315 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. This fic is for entertainment purposes only!

Chapter List
- 1-one
- 2-two
- 3-three
- 4-four
- 5-five
- 6-six
- 7-seven
- 8-eight
- 9-nine
- 10-ten
- 11-eleven
- 12-twelve
- 13-thirteen
- 14-fourteen
- 15-fifteen
- 16-sixteen
- 17-seventeen
- 18-eighteen
- 19-nineteen
- 20-twenty
- 21-twenty one
- 22-twenty two
- 23-twenty three
- 24-twenty four
- 25-twenty five
- 26-twenty six
- 27-twenty seven
- 28-twenty eight
- 29-Twenty nine
- 20
- 21
- 22
Should he have come back so soon?
Sirius just couldn't stay home any longer, the house was too quiet. The quiet made him overthink, and he just couldn't take thinking any longer.
The pit of grief deep inside Sirius's chest would not go away. No matter what he seemed to do, he couldn't shake this feeling of impending doom and gloom. He recalled a similar feeling after losing his best friends and freedom all within hours of each other. It'd taken him a long time to shake the ethereal fist strangling his soul, which was longer than he cared to wait for this circumstance.
Allie was a mess. She spent her time rotating between the rocking chair in the nursery and their bed, growing exhausted just from merely walking a flight of stairs. He figured that despite magic's ability to heal a person in recovering from medical procedures faster than muggles could, the events of the week had taken everything out of her. She'd been sedated during the delivery procedure, not wholly, but enough to keep her calm. How much of it did she remember? Did she have the tennis-ball-sized knot of anxiety in her chest? He wouldn't know, she wouldn't talk to him. Hell, she'd hardly talk at all.
Owls sent her schoolwork each day, a special accommodation Dumbledore set up so that she could spend a few weeks at home before getting back into a regular routine. Sirius would see a textbook or two open on the desk, but never saw her actually work on any school assignments.
"How's school going?" he'd ask, attempting to make polite conversation.
"Fine."
Fine. That's all she'd say. It seemed like this was Allie's answer to any question about how she was, how her schoolwork was doing, or really anything. Her response was concise and consistent each time; fine. Sirius could say with certainty that the only word he'd heard her utter in the last two days was 'fine.'
All the while, he was drowning himself in a bottle of liquor each night. He'd been drinking himself to sleep each night, passing out on the drawing-room couch and waking up in an uncomfortable position. The pit of grief in his chest would twist and tighten immediately upon waking, reminding him there was no escape.
He'd insisted he needed to get back to work. Colleen emphasized that he did not need to return if it would bring up bad memories, but Sirius insisted. Sure, he didn't need the money— the pay was shit, and the job was bogus, but it was something to do.
The Leaky Cauldron was shrunk back to its original size and looked just like it did before the Halloween masquerade party. Gone were the white pumpkins, Spanish moss, and grand floor candelabras. Now, it was just the same old cement walls and wooden tables that hadn't changed since the 19th century.
He entered the kitchen from the back hallway through one of the fireplaces, brushing off soot and debris from his travel. He cringed as Rod Thorson greeted him with an over-enthusiastic hello. Sirius smiled somewhere halfway between a grimace and a grin; he wasn't in the mood to deal with Thorson today.
"I got started on the Leaky Soup already for you," Thorson said. "It's been a slower breakfast, so I thought I'd help you out."
"Thanks," Sirius muttered as he tied a clean apron around his waist.
"Little Tyler is comin' in to wash dishes this afternoon," Thorson said. "But I can get a head start on them before I go."
"That'd be helpful, Thorson, thanks."
Sirius got the impression by Thorson's overly polite demeanor that he knew what happened. Did Colleen tell the staff? How much did everyone know? Thorson leaned back to almost sit on the edge of the prep table.
"Listen, Black," Thorson said, exhaling. "I heard what happened. I'm real sorry, I know how hard this is..."
"Yeah? And what do you know of it?" Sirius snapped.
He didn't mean to bite Thorson's head off, but it just came out. Thorson didn't even flinch. He remained relaxed, almost as if he knew Sirius would respond with hostility.
"I lost me a little one, a long time ago," Thorson said, directing his eyes to the floor. "Sure, it's a little different than you and Ging's, but still hurt. She was four."
"What?"
Sirius had known Thorson for years and had no idea until this moment that he'd been a father. In all those times out in the rec yard that Thorson would ramble on about the homes he'd burglarized, the stuff he'd stolen, and the alleged women he'd slept with, he never once mentioned a child.
"Rose," he said longingly, "She was the most beautiful little girl. Had buttery blonde hair just like her mum."
"I—" Sirius couldn't help but stare at Thorson as if he'd had three heads. "I didn't know…"
"That's 'cause I never talked about it," Thorson said, smiling sadly. "I met Sharon at a little pub in Devonshire. She was the love of my life. I met her, and I cleaned up my act. Quit thieving, quit stealing, all for her. She gave me my beautiful Rose— at that time, I was all about being a family man, you know? I was goin' to be a business owner, have myself a little pub all on my own. Provide for my family, live in a little house out in the country."
Sirius was on pins and needles, staring at Thorson as if he'd never seen him before. That, or maybe he was just really seeing Thorson for the first time.
"What happened?" Sirius asked thickly.
Thorson sighed. His rubicund face fell from a nostalgic smile to a sad, sorrowful expression.
"Dragon Pox. They died at the beginning of the large outbreak in '78. We'd all had it, but for some reason, it killed 'em and not me. I was green as a tree for 6 months after, too,"
Sirius recalled the Dragon Pox outbreak that Thorson was referring to. It was the same wave of Dragon Pox that took Fleamont and Euphemia Potter. Thorson's rough, pockmarked skin was a lasting effect of the disease.
"I went a little nuts after that," Thorson continued, chuckling sheepishly, "Started thieving again, got myself into a gang of crooks. Was a good run while it lasted, 'til I got caught."
Thorson looked up and gave Sirius an understanding nod. "Your little one was taken from you even before you could give them a name. It wasn't right, we all heard Lenore was working with You Know Who."
Sirius nodded. "Yeah, she was. She'd had Jack under the imperius curse, I'm surprised he'd be back at work so soon."
Sirius gestured at Jack, wiping down the bar through the kitchen window.
"Probably eager to get back to normal, jus' like you. He was in St. Mungo's for a few days," Thorson said. "And some Aurors came by yesterday to speak with Colleen— I about ran out the back door when I saw 'em."
Sirius snickered under his breath. "I know the feeling."
Thorson chuckled with him, and then they fell into a natural pause. Sirius wished he would've known this side of Thorson during the 8 years they'd spent in prison together— he might've been a little nicer to him, at times.
"There ain't anything I can say to make it better, but I just wanted you to know that I know what you're goin' through," Thorson said. "If you need to get anything off your chest, let me know."
"...thanks, Thorson." he mustered out.
Thorson gave him a nod, clasped his hand on his shoulder, reassuringly, "That knot in your chest will go away, it'll take a while, but it will."
And with that, Thorson removed his apron and exited the kitchen. Sirius leaned back against the prep table, absorbing all the information he'd just learned until Alma barked at him through the kitchen window.
"Sirius!"
Sirius looked up, giving her a contemptuous glare.
"Leaky Soup," she demanded, pointing to the ticket in the window.
In some strange way, Alma treating him as if nothing was different was as refreshing as Thorson sharing the worst and most personal moment of his life.
The pub was busy, which was surprising for such a lovely day for this time of year. Sirius would've expected patrons to gather at a venue with outdoor seating, like some of the bars and pubs along the entertainment district of Wizardling London. He didn't mind the steady orders coming in through his lunch and dinner double shift. It kept him occupied enough to not think about the events of Halloween night.
Strange, he thought, that Halloween night had been when James and Lily were murdered. Exactly 15 years later, his unborn child was killed. A shame, he used to really enjoy Halloween.
All-day, Sirius had thought maybe he should go say something to Jack. He wondered if he should ask how he was doing after realizing he'd been under the imperius curse for an indeterminate amount of time. Despite Jack's and his rocky history, he felt checking on him to be the civil and polite thing to do.
After closing the kitchen, Sirius tossed his apron into the hamper and made his way out into the dining room. He took a seat at the bar, telling himself he'd stay for one drink, just long enough in case Jack wouldn't give him the time of day.
"What're you having?" Jack asked, without turning around.
"Macallan's. Neat." Sirius replied. "Make it a double."
Jack served Sirius the 12-year-old scotch in a fancy tulip glass etched with the Leaky Cauldron's logo.
"New glasses?" Sirius asked, "I've never drunk out of anything but tumblers here."
"Lenore ordered them before she, well, you know."
Sirius observed Jack for a moment as he continued to wipe down the bar.
"How are you," He asked, coughing awkwardly. "You know, with…"
"Having been under the imperius curse and doing her dirty work?" Jack asked tartly.
Sirius shrugged. "Well, yeah."
Jack scrubbed the bar harder, avoiding Sirius's gaze. "What do you care," he grumbled.
"I—" Sirius paused. "Just because you and I aren't exactly mates, doesn't mean I don't care about what happened to you."
Jack gave Sirius a curious expression, then finished wiping the bar before he set his rag down and sighed. "I murdered people," He admitted, with a regretful tone. "Muggles. She took me around to these quiet neighborhoods, and we killed families. I knew what I was doing, but I had no control over it. It was… odd."
"I know the feeling," Sirius shrugged, taking a hearty swig of scotch.
Jack looked down again. "I poisoned the woman I loved, and she lost her child because of it."
There was an awkward pause between the two of them. Sirius had wondered if Jack knew then that he slipped poison into Allie's drink, or if Lenore had disguised it as a common ingredient.
"Look, I was angry at her and you for a long time. I hated you, I blamed you for taking her from me,"
"I never meant to," Sirius said, "I didn't speak up and tell her how I felt when I should've…"
Jack held his hand up to stop Sirius. "I always knew Allie carried feelings for someone else. The way she would speak about you before I knew who you were was obvious. We talked about previous partners. The way her eyes would light up when she spoke about you," Jack chuckled sardonically as he shook his head. "I thought if she married me, she'd forget about you. I knew all along her heart didn't belong to me, but I tried anyway. I was just as angry and embarrassed with myself as I was her and you."
"She cared about you," Sirius said. "She still does. She knows Lenore had you under the imperius curse, she doesn't blame you."
Jack scoffed. "I started hanging around Lenore to get over Allie. Great luck with women, eh?"
Sirius and Jack shared a laugh, then fell into a natural pause. Sirius almost wondered what parallel dimension he'd stepped into— making real connections with both Jack and Thorson? He'd sooner think pigs would've flown.
"So, you can remember all your time with Lenore, correct?" Sirius asked, swirling his glass.
"Yeah," he nodded. "I think so."
"Any chance she mentioned any other plans to you?"
Jack appeared to ponder this for a moment before shaking his head. "Not that I can recall, I'll let you know if I think of anything."
Sirius rose his glass to him as if he were saying thank you with his scotch, then downed the rest of the amber liquid in one gulp. He stood and set two galleons on the bar and slid them towards Jack.
"Keep the change, mate."
"I wouldn't go that far," Jack muttered.
Jack spoke with a gruff tone but had a small smile on his face. Sirius chuckled to himself as he turned to leave. Yeah, Jack and he would never be friends, but it was nice to have a civil conversation with him.
"Hey—"
Sirius was about halfway from the bar to the back hall as Jack called for him. He turned and looked at Jack over his shoulder.
"C—can you tell Allie I'm sorry?" he asked, his shoulders hunching forward. "For, uh, everything."
Sirius nodded. "Yeah, I can do that."
Allie was nowhere in sight when Sirius arrived home. All the lights in 12 Grimmauld Place were off, and nothing was out of place, as if the house hadn't been touched since he'd left for work 7 hours earlier. As Sirius ascended up the stairs, a slight bit of light peeked out from the bedroom door, informing him that Allie was inside. Had she been cooped up there all day? He retreated down to the kitchen, hoping maybe she would eat something if he brought it to her.
Sirius stood in front of the refrigerator, eyes scanning the various casseroles stacked on top of each other like library books. Which condolence dish would he choose for dinner this evening— tuna noodle or sweet potato and black bean?
He decided on the tuna noodle, scooping a couple of heaps onto plates for him and Allie and heating them with a wave of his wand. He partially hated that casseroles were the traditional dish gifted after a loved one had passed. The heap of food on his plate reminded him of Azkaban's prison mush.
He took a bite of his, pleased that Molly's tuna noodle casserole tasted a hell of a lot better than the shit he ate in prison. Everything there was usually cold, thanks to the dementors, and he was sure he found a maggot in his meatloaf one day. It was no wonder people seemed to grow unhealthy and die after being incarcerated— essential nourishment should've been a fundamental human right.
He climbed the stairs with both plates in hand, planning to deliver Allie's dinner to her in bed. She'd hardly leave their room, so he hoped her chances of eating would be higher if he offered her food to her here.
She was sitting in the windowsill, dressed in one of Sirius's ratty old band shirts from the mid-seventies, and a pair of black and white cat-print pajama pants that she hadn't fit into since before her pregnancy. Her hair was dull, frizzy, and knotted from days of sleeping on it without brushing or even some conditioner. Her cheeks were wet as she stared out the window at the setting sun. A notebook and quill were discarded on the floor next to her. It appeared she had started writing a letter, as the paper was addressed to Rory, Bridget, and Teagen, but stopped after the address line.
"Hey," Sirius said gently. "I brought you some dinner."
Allie's gaze remained fixed on an unknown point outside the window. "I'm not really hungry."
Sirius exhaled, wondering how to approach to get her to comply. Usually, she would never pass up food, but lately, she'd been only eating the bare minimum.
"Just a few bites, please," he requested. "It's tuna noodle. It's good— Molly made this one."
Allie sighed gently, then turned and reached out for the plate. She rested it on her knee, took a small bite, and nodded.
"It is good," she affirmed as she chewed. "Better than Moody's chicken livers."
Sirius settled himself in the windowsill next to her, mirroring her body position to rest his plate on his knee as well. He thought for a moment that they should make fair use out of this massive window sill and fasten a cushion here since Allie seemed to enjoy gazing out the window so much.
"Are you writing to your siblings?" he asked, gesturing to the unwritten letter on the floor next to her.
"I tried," she said softly. "I don't know what to say."
"Just tell them what happened."
"I was going to," she said, blinking a stray tear. "I guess I do know what to say, but I just can't. I can't bring myself to write it."
Sirius nodded, he understood. He knew he needed to send a letter to Harry informing him of what had happened, and he'd been unable to do so. He just couldn't write the words.
"I haven't written to Harry either," Sirius said, poking at his casserole. "I can't bring myself to do it."
Allie gave him a sad, half-smile. "He'll find out when I go back to Hogwarts next week."
"Are you going to be ready to go back to class?"
Allie sighed, taking a moment to answer. "I can't miss any more classes."
A political answer, he reckoned. Sirius glanced over to the desk across the room. One textbook sat open on the desk, which appeared to be the same one that had sat dormant for the last two days.
"I saw an owl dropped off some assignments this morning," Sirius said. "How are those going?"
Allie took a tiny bite of casserole, then shrugged her shoulders. "Fine."
There it was, her favorite word as of late. Fine. Judging by what Sirius could see from across the room, the wax seals on the envelopes containing Allie's tasks hadn't been broken. He wondered just how many assignments she had unfinished. Should he say something?
He decided against it for now, because she was eating and had settled her tears. A conversation for another day, he figured. They remained silent for a few minutes, Allie continuing to look out the window. Sirius was about to offer her some space when she spoke instead.
"What do you think of Elliot? for a boy?"
Sirius turned to look at her, tears glistened in her eyes once more.
"I like it," he replied.
"We haven't given him a name,"
Sirius's heart was snapping in two. He'd been given umpteen forms at the hospital, one of which a death certificate. The aide informed him they had a few weeks before needing to register the death with the Vital Statistics Department at the Ministry. He wasn't sure it would be good to discuss a name at the hospital with the condition Allie was in. If he were honest with himself, picking a name right then and there would've about killed him too.
"He needs a name," she added in a whisper.
After a moment. "Would you like to name him Elliot?" he asked gently.
"Yes, I would," Allie's chin quivered as a few stray tears fell down her cheeks.
Sirius looked out the window, staring at the random muggle passersby down Grimmauld Place. He felt a feeling of deep sorrow over naming a child that would never get a shot in this world, due to circumstances that were no fault of his own. Anger began to stir in his belly as he thought of Lenore, all the havoc she'd caused both him and Allie. He had the urge to smash his hand through the window and then throw everything in his reach across the room. He wanted to— no— needed to find her, and choke the living daylights out of her.
"I'm going to kill her, you know," Sirius muttered softly.
Allie turned to look at him, her expression not surprised but interested.
"I'm going to hunt her down and kill her," Sirius continued. "I'm going to make her pay for what she's done."
Allie seemed unaffected by this statement. She turned her head and resumed looking out the window.
"Death is too kind," she said simply, without another word.

An unseasonable warm front brought very mild temperatures for a few days. 55 degrees with partial sunshine made early November feel like a typical budding spring day. The springtime gave a much more hopeful feeling with the beginning stages of blooming flowers and melting snow than the dead, bare branches of late fall trees. Now, all plant life around him had died off, leaving the world to look barren and glum. How fitting, he thought.
He'd encouraged Allie to go for a walk with him. He wanted to break herself out of the monotonous cycle of either laying in bed, clutching a pillow, or sitting in the nursery and rocking herself back and forth in the rocking chair aimlessly. She wasn't much for talking these days, but Sirius understood. He'd gotten used to Allie's quiet demeanor during their time together, understanding when she was upset or sad she retreated within herself. It was one thing to be quiet, he figured, but to allow her to lock herself away in a room with no plan to come out would drive her mad. He knew all too well what being stuck in isolation could do to a person.
She walked just a few steps ahead of Sirius, arms crossed and shoulders rounded forward. They walked at a leisurely pace, admiring the brick architecture of the muggle homes lining the old cobblestone streets. Mrs. Tannenbaum was on her front sidewalk, sweeping away remnants of dead leaves that had collected from a nearby field maple tree. She noticed them almost immediately, stopping her sweeping to smile and wave. Her hand was frozen in midair. Her smile turned a confused expression as her eyes darted between the two of them. Allie couldn't even get the words out before she burst into tears, burying her face into her hands.
Mrs. Tannenbaum whisked them inside, her arm wrapped around Allie and shushing her in a motherly fashion. As Mrs. Tannenbaum clanked around in the kitchen for some tea, Sirius and Allie waited on her antique couch. Allie didn't say so, but Sirius knew telling Mrs. Tannenbaum their news was hard for her.
"Here we are,"
Mrs. Tannenbaum entered the sitting room with a large mirrored platter, a flowered china tea kettle, and three cups and saucers. She had small bowls of both brown and white sugar cubes and small carafes of milk and cream.
"I believe Sirius, you take yours black, and Allie, a splash of milk and a brown sugar cube?"
"Yes, thank you," Sirius nodded, smiling politely.
Allie gave a weak smile and nodded in appreciation as Mrs. Tannenbaum handed her the cup and saucer. "I'm sorry I didn't send word sooner," she said softly, her green eyes averting downward.
"No, no, I understand how hard this is, dear," Mrs. Tannenbaum said, waving an arthritic hand. "I regret that there isn't anything I can say or do to ease your pain. How are you holding up?"
"Um,"
Allie fidgeted with her teacup, appearing uncomfortable about answering this question. Sirius took a sip of his tea and interjected.
"It's been a rough few days," Sirius said, "As to be expected."
"Sure," Mrs. Tannenbaum nodded, smiling weakly. "Well, my door is always open for a cuppa, you both know that…"
They made idle small talk about Mrs. Tannenbaum's indoor plants, the unseasonably warm front gracing the London metropolitan area, and how the market was out of peaches yesterday. It was refreshing to talk about such trivial matters, rather than going over war plots and strategies as the members of the Order gave them sympathetic looks. Allie came out of her shell, only just a touch, discussing the care for Mrs. Tannenbaum's aloe plants.
She grimaced, subconsciously rubbing her forearm over her chest. Mrs. Tannenbaum set her tea down and looked at Allie understandably.
"Oh, my dear," She said sympathetically. "You're lactating, aren't you?"
Allie turned a brilliant shade of tomato red. She nodded, shifting in her seat uncomfortably.
"It hurts," she said softly. "squeezing them is the only thing that helps."
"No, no dear, that will make your body make more," Mrs. Tannenbaum said. "Here, I know what will help."
Mrs. Tannenbaum ushered them into the kitchen, where she pulled a small head of cabbage from the fridge. With knobby, arthritic fingers, she pulled two cabbage leaves off the stem and handed them to Allie.
"Put these in your bra," she said, "trust me, cold cabbage is a miracle worker."
"What?" Sirius laughed incredulously. "How would cabbage stop breast milk?"
"I have no idea," Mrs. Tannenbaum simply. "but it works. Off to the loo—" she ushered Allie. "Trust me."
Allie walked off to the bathroom, looking down at her leaves of cabbage skeptically. Sirius chuckled; he wasn't sure if he'd heard of anything quite so strange, but then again, a lot of what muggles did seemed odd to him.
"I hope that giving you this now is alright under the circumstances—" Mrs. Tannenbaum said, drawing Sirius's attention back to her. "But I just finished this earlier in the week, and maybe you could save it for if you try again,"
Mrs. Tannenbaum ushered Sirius back into the sitting room, gesturing for him to sit back down on the couch. He obliged as she pulled a folded knitted yellow blanket from a wooden hutch adjacent to the sofa.
"Or at least give it to another lovely couple expecting a baby."
She smiled warmly as she handed the blanket to him. The blanket felt like a plush cloud, softer than anything Sirius had felt. Holding the blanket gave Sirius a wrenching feeling deep in his stomach that his son would never be swaddled in it. This blanket served as a reminder for the many things their son would never get to do.
Nevertheless, he was glad to have it, and he was certain Allie would feel the same.
They stayed for another cup of tea, making light small-talk that slowly brought more and more conversation out of Allie than Sirius had gotten in almost 2 weeks. She held the blanket on her lap, stroking it softly but maintained her focus on the conversation. Sirius had feared she'd break down when she saw it, despite being thankful to have it, but he'd been wrong. Now, walking home, Allie had the blanket folded over her arm as she crossed her arms tightly against her chest, watching the sidewalk underneath her feet. Sirius carried a grocery sack containing a head of cabbage, as Mrs. Tannenbaum had insisted that Allie change her cabbage inserts every hour. The thought of her walking around with cabbage stuffed in her bra gave him a laugh, one he wished she'd share with him.
They walked through the front door, met by a dark and empty house. Allie headed for the stairs without so much as a look over her shoulder.
"I'm going to go lay down for a while."
And without another word, she retreated up the stairs and did not reemerge.
After storing the cabbage in the refrigerator, Sirius found himself on the couch in the drawing-room with a bottle of Ogden's Old firewhiskey and an old book he found randomly in the drawing-room.
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, by C.S. Lewis.
A muggle book, of course. Sirius wondered if this was one from Hermione's collection, accidentally left here from this summer. He'd read this one while inside Azkaban (where the book allotment was oddly saturated with muggle literature) maybe in 1987 if he recalled correctly? No, 1986...85? He wasn't entirely sure. The years tended to blend together.
He sipped straight from the bottle, losing himself inside the pages of the story of 4 siblings and the magical wardrobe, snickering at the muggle author's poor portrayal of a portkey. He drank and drank, making his way down the bottle until his insides felt warm and tingly.
Edmund was already feeling uncomfortable from having eaten too many sweets, and when he heard that the Lady he had made friends with was a dangerous witch, he felt even more uncomfortable. But he still wanted to taste that Turkish Delight more than he wanted anything else.
"Stupid kid," Sirius muttered to himself, taking a hearty swig.
Sirius read until the bottle was gone, and the sun had well since set. He rubbed his face lazily, thinking he might as well call it a night. He set the bottle off to the side, folded the corner of the page he was on, and stood. The whole room spun as he took clumsy steps towards the stairs, burping up the spicy acidity of cinnamon whiskey.
He made his way to the bedroom, where Allie was tucked in and asleep. She was lying on her side, cradling the folded yellow blanket to her chest. Still, in his day clothes, Sirius flopped into bed next to her, shaking the bed frame and waking her up.
"Hmm?" She shot up abruptly, her hair sticking up in every which way. "Sirius?
"Sorry, kitten," Sirius slurred. "It's just me coming to bed."
"Mm..."
She rubbed her face sleepily, then lay back down on her side, adjusting herself and resuming cuddling the blanket once more. Sirius stared at the spinning ceiling for a moment before turning his attention to her. There was something about her satin sleeping shorts hugging her bum that stirred a bit of desire deep within him. He rolled onto his side, clumsily reaching out and stroking her spine from neck to hip. He felt himself growing inside his trousers, a need within him begging to be fulfilled. It had been weeks since the last time, much longer than he was now used to going.
He scooted himself close so that his chest pressed up against her back. He brushed back her hair and kissed her neck gently as he snaked his arm around her.
"Sirius," Allie grumbled sleepily, readjusting herself once more.
"You're so beautiful…" Sirius slurred, whispering in her ear.
"Not tonight," she said, scrunching her face up as her eyes remained closed.
"I'll be quick," he murmured, his hand trailing down her side gently. "Just roll over."
"Mm-mm." she shook her head, humming in protest sleepily. She attempted to swat his hand away, moving in a lethargic half-asleep fashion. "I'm sleeping."
"Come on—"
He pressed his erection against her and tugged at her shorts, kissing her neck sloppily.
"Not tonight—"
"I'll be quick—"
"Sirius, stop!"
She was much more awake and alert as she ordered him to stop, effectively swatting his hand away and getting her message across. Sirius flopped onto his back and huffed irritably. He lay there, irritation seething through him for a few minutes before getting up and stumbling off to the bathroom. After a splash of cold water to his face, he looked at himself in the mirror, scowling at his reflection.
"You right git," he spat, cursing at himself. "You deserve a good kick in the bollocks for that."
Despite the world around him spinning, he exercised grace as he climbed into bed this time, wondering if Allie had fallen back asleep. After a moment, he heard her sniffle, confirming to him that she was still awake.
"I'm sorry," he muttered.
After a moment, "me too." she replied.
With each passing second, his eyes grew heavier and heavier. The spinning sensation worsened as he closed his eyes, but he couldn't help it, they were much too heavy to keep open. Eventually, unbeknownst to him, Sirius's spinning stopped, and he drifted off to sleep.
Cold sweat dripped down his face as he struggled in his chair. He was only in his boxers, ankles bound to the legs of the chair and wrists tied behind him. He fought hard, twisting against the ropes in hopes of breaking free and getting to his wand.
"Quit struggling, Sirius," Lenore said, smirking as she paced in front of him. "You're going to bruise."
"You psychotic bitch!" Sirius shouted. "You loathsome, evil—"
The slurs that came out of Sirius's mouth next were terms he'd never used to describe a woman in his entire life. He allowed every part of him to seethe with hate, to project all of his anger and rage outward in his speech. It was all he could do, bound helplessly without a wand. If he could just get his arms free, he'd choke the life out of Lenore— payback. He'd abide by Hammurabi's code, an eye for an eye. Or, in this case, a life for a life.
"Do keep going, mon cheri," Lenore purred. "I do love a man who isn't afraid to talk dirty.."
She was dressed in a lacy black get up that left almost nothing to the imagination. Her sheer dressing gown had a train longer than any wedding dress Sirius had ever seen, slithering along the floor behind her like a menacing basilisk. She smelled of exotic florals and sandalwood, setting the mood for whatever sick and twisted events were about to happen.
"You killed my child," Sirius barked, straining once again against his binds.
"And I regret dear, sweet Allie didn't perish with him!" Lenore gave a scornful laugh. "My mistake, I suppose. I should've made the concentration stronger."
"The Auror's know about you," Sirius said through gritted teeth. "You won't get away with this."
"Oh, I will," her tongue ran along her teeth as she smiled sinisterly. "Don't underestimate me."
Sirius struggled against his binds once more, cursing under his breath when the ropes seemed to tighten.
"Why did you try to kill them and not me," Sirius demanded. "You had me on my back, an easy shot. Why doesn't Voldemort want you to kill me?"
"Oh, I can't go and tell you all our secrets now. That would ruin the fun."
Sirius let out a frustrated growl, twisting his wrists behind his back desperately.
"This isn't real," he gruffed. "This is a dream. I'm making this up, this is all in my head."
Lenore let out another haughty laugh as she straddled Sirius's lap, grasping his cheeks between her thumb and index finger with force.
"Sure, this is happening inside your head," Lenore murmured, her eyes roving over Sirius's face as he fought against her impressively firm grip. "But what makes you think that this isn't real?"
"Sirius!"
The voice shouting his name sounded distant like it was echoing off in the distance with an unknown origin point. It sounded like it was coming from above, below, and off in another room of wherever Sirius was. Lenore looked all around the room, snickering.
"Looks like our time is up for now…"
She leaned down and nipped at the skin just above Sirius's collarbone, hard.
"Fuck!" he shouted, wriggling and writhing to put space between him and her, but with no such luck thanks to his binds.
Lenore leaned forward, resting her cheek against his as she murmured in his ear. "Say 'bonjour' to Allie for me."
"Sirius!"
Sirius shot up out of bed, panting heavily and dripping in a cold sweat. He looked around the room frantically— he was back in his bedroom, and Lenore was nowhere in sight.
"Sirius, you were shouting," Allie said softly, placing a delicate hand on his shoulder. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, yeah," Sirius said, sighing. "It was just a dream."
His mouth was bone dry as if he'd swished with a mouthful of acetone. His head was pounding from the inevitable hangover he was going to have, and his whole body felt like a weak sack of potatoes. He hadn't dreamt of Lenore since Halloween, so he was under the impression that Snape's antidote had finally kicked in. Had it not? Or was this strange dream brought on by the whole bottle of Ogden's Old coursing through his system?
Sirius looked down at his hands, and his heart stopped. Circumferencing his wrists were ½ inch thick welts, as if he'd been bound by the wrists and struggled against them.
Impossible…
He tore the blanket back, his blood pressure skyrocketing as he had the same welt around his ankles.
"Sirius, what are those welts?" she asked, her voice high pitched with concern.
He jumped out of bed and raced over to the mirror, pulling his shirt collar aside to see his collarbone. His stomach twisted, and his breath caught in his throat when he saw a small red welt, the size of a little bite, just above his collarbone.
"Sirius," Allie pleaded urgently, "what are those?"
This was impossible. He couldn't have been injured from a dream… could he? Looking at the markings on his body, he wasn't sure what was possible anymore. If Lenore was somehow able to manipulate his dreams, so much so that he had markings as an aftermath, he feared what else would be possible. He'd never seen magic like this before in his entire life.
He turned around, Allie's face as white as a sheet. She clutched her chest as if she had a heart attack, looking at him nervously.
"Sirius," she repeated pleadingly. "You're scaring me."
He took a shaking breath, fighting to keep his tone calm as not to scare her, but found it challenging. He was terrified himself.
"I—I think we have a problem..."
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