Written for Day 5 of Sifki Week. Prompt: Star-crossed lovers
I have sooooo many headcanons about Loki and Sif as wizards and time at hogwarts and into adulthood ahhhh
The cool night air lifted strands of her dark hair as Sif walked quickly down the misty street away from her apparition spot. Her boots clipped against the pavement and her travelling cloak rustled as she climbed the short steps of the small, dark house. She paused on the doorstep, taking a deep breath before turning the knob, feeling a tingle of magic against her palm.
Sif tried to calm the furor of her heartbeat as the door softly shut behind her. The house was still, save for the light dancing against the wall from the single old lantern illuminating the entrance. She slowly made her way up the creaky stairs, following the sliver of light leading her down the hallway. She raised a hand and pushed, swinging the cracked door to open fully into the sparse bedroom.
Her breath caught at the sight of him, his tall form silhouetted against the moonlight streaming in from the large window. The hem of his dark emerald green robes, meticulously kept as always, brushed against the dusty floorboards. The slight raise of his chin, lifting minutely above the high, stiff collar of his buttoned tunic, was his only acknowledgement of her entrance. Looking out over the misty hills he did not turn away from the pane of glass to face her.
A flame flickered and crackled softly in the small fireplace set into the far wall. Sif stepped into the room and walked towards the mantle, keeping her eyes on the figure and fingering her wand tucked into the sleeve of her deep maroon Auror's robes.
"You needed me?" Sif broke the silence, her voice softer than she intended, thinking of the hairpin, a gift once, adorned with stars that had grown bright with its Protean Charm, a signal.
"He's growing stronger," Loki said. Loki. Her Loki. The sound of his voice made her heart pinch, so familiar yet infused with something new. Something that hadn't been there in the days of their youth, spending time lounging on Hogwart's lawn, partnering together in their different Houses' shared potion classes, sneaking down dark, far flung corridors of the castle's maze-like hallways. "He becomes more powerful each day."
Loki absentmindedly brought his hand up to touch his left forearm, long fingers tracing a pattern against his opulent robes. Sif sighed from across the room, pushing off from the wall and pacing forward. "We know this. The Ministry has a good word on his whereabouts and are confident he'll be brought in soon."
"The Ministry is naive," he shook his head, finally turning towards her and taking a step closer. "He's searching for something. Collecting. A weapon, I think. You have no idea how serious this is about to be." His eyes bore into her, the gravity and certainty in his voice caused a shiver to trickle down her spine.
Officially, she'd been tracking Loki for months, tasked with the capture of several high-ranking Death Eaters. Unofficially, they'd been meeting here sporadically for months, the home of his muggle parents. The ones he did not know existed until the muggle's lawyer had contacted him regarding the will. This place was a secret, known only to the two of them. If the others found out that Loki was not pure of blood as he himself had so zealously believed for so many years, it could be dangerous.
It was stupid, she knew, to keep doing this. The likelihood of getting caught, by his side or hers grew each day as a war brewed in the shadows. Loki assured her that he was skilled in Occlumency, but she heard rumors of his leader's skill in mind-reading. Even worse was the thought of him betraying her, either through curse or free will; the possibility of him summoning for her in an attempt to capture or kill. They were enemies now, she should stay away.
But something kept drawing her in, drawing her back to him.
"Why? Why are you here? Why are you telling me this?"
"To warn you. To protect you." He stepped nearer, the small distance between them now allowing her a chance to see the dark circles under his eyes. Eyes that shone with fear. "So you can leave before it's too late. People are going to die, Sif."
His imploring, near frantic tone pooled dread in her stomach. She shook her head. "If what you say is true, I can't leave, Loki. I must defend against it." He dropped his gaze to wall behind her at her words. Stepping closer to him, ever-so-lightly pressing her palm to his chest, she drew his gaze back to her. "But you can get out. Please, Loki. You don't have to do this."
It's too late, Sif," the ice in his voice was punctuated by his hand reaching for his sleeve, shoving the emerald fabric up to expose the inside of his left arm. She gasped, seeing the dark, midnight ink raised against the pale skin of his forearm. "There's no hope left for me now."
Sif reeled at his words, at the sight of the Dark Mark and swayed on her heels. She shook her head again. "Turn yourself in, come with me to the Ministry. I can talk to Tho-, to the Prime Minister. I'll vouch for you or we can say you were under the effects of the Imperius Curse."
He laughed coolly. "No. Mercy is not likely, considering what I've done. And if the others heard of my treason, I'd be dead within the hour."
He never spoke of the particulars of what had been asked of him, what deeds he had committed to win favor. But rumors had reached her ears and detailed the Apprehension Orders for Undesirables stacked on her desk at the Ministry.
Her palm pushed firmer against his chest, fingers tangling in his robes. She knew the truth of his words, and feeling desperate she wanted to shake him.
"Leave. Run away with me. Together we can leave all of this behind." She reached out with her other hand, her fingers wrapping around his arm, covering the mark.
"No," he repeated, but his tone was not as cool nor distant as it had been moments ago. A sad smile flitted across his lips. "You deserve a far better fate than to entangle yourself with someone as doomed as me."
He brought a hand up and brushed a strand of hair away from her face, then slid his fingers into her hair. She closed her eyes at his touch, wrapping her hand tighter around him. Loki pressed a kiss to her forehead, his voice then whispered against her ear. "This must be our goodbye. I'm sorry, Sif."
A wave of hurt, anger, resentment, fear crashed over her. In one swift move she pushed him away from her and drew her wand, the rosewood tip pointed directly at his heart as she tried to blink the tears from her eyes.
He caught his footing from her blow and then stood stock-still in the center of his room. Her mind tilted and whirred, it would be easy to Stupefy him or hit him with a Petrificus Totalus. He was a skilled dueler, but so was she.
Imperio, an Unforgivable, rose to her tongue, waiting. She could make him come.
Still, Loki just stared at her waiting. His face a mix of acceptance and sorrow.
She gripped her wand tighter, feeling her heart ache, shattering with love for the boy who had been her most intimate companion, and pounding with sorrow for the young man who had gone astray.
Slowly, she felt her anger and pain melt, a strange hollow sensation washing over her and lowered her arm. He had made his choice, and she had made hers. She nodded at him. "Very well. Be safe out there."
She turned and with slow steps she crossed the room.
"I am sorry, Sif." His soft voice made her pause at the door. She turned to look at him, nodding and offering a soft smile.
"As am I. Goodbye, Loki."
"Goodbye, Sif."
The faint pop as she apparated out of the room did little to mask the cry of agony that rang out from the house upon her departure, echoing down the road where Sif ran as fast as she could, cloak billowing behind in her wake, without letting herself look back.