Disclaimer: I own nothing, J.K Rowling and Rick Riordan are both responsible for the two wonderful series. I just like to play with them.

Chapter 2

If it wasn't for the fact that I was blessed with the ability to metabolise alcohol without a hangover, the amount that I drank should have had me paying worship to the porcelain god. Instead I woke up warm with a bundle of black fur cuddled up to me. When Sirius noticed that I was awake, he began licking my cheek until I shot him a tired half-hearted smile and pushed him away.

I skipped breakfast and had a shower, desperately trying to avoid Mrs Weasley. I was scared that she wanted to talk and talking hurt. Hades, right now thinking hurt, even breathing was hard. Still I dressed in jeans and my Camp Jupiter shirt and got to work dusting one of the old rooms in the house. Moving from room to room, changing the water when it was dirty and scrubbing away the grime.

"Molly's been ranting all day," Remus said jumping me out of my head, "I hear you got drunk last night." He came and sat on the floor next to me.

"The girl that's been like my little sister since I was nine years old died the night before the last," I said calmly, "I… there's a method okay." He looked intrigued.

"And what exactly is this method?" he asked curiously.

"You spend the night trying to drown your pain and guilt in the bottom of a bottle and then the next morning you get up, and you do something constructive," I said scrubbing viciously at a particularly stubborn piece of dirt, "It doesn't matter how much it hurts, or how much you want to just lay down and die, you don't. You pick up the pieces and keep going."

"That's not really fair," he pointed out. I snorted.

"No, it's not fair," I said lightly, "But it's just the way that it is. Does that satisfy your well-meaning adult intentions and snooping." He froze and then smiled softly.

"What makes you think that I'm snooping or here as," he started.

"A nominated representative of the collective adults nosey concern?" I cut him off, "I won't tell you not to bluff. You wouldn't be a marauder if you didn't. Just don't expect me to believe it."

"Clever girl," he said shooting me a smile with a rare hint of wolfishness in it, "You do know that I wasn't just here because they asked me to find out. I do care about you."

"Don't sound so surprised, and I know you care. I care to and that's the reason why they sent you," I said blankly, "If you want to go and tell them what you found out, you can."

And what if I don't?" he asked, grabbing the hand that was almost damaging the paint because I was wiping so hard, "What if this just stays between you and me?" I shifted so I was sitting facing him.

"Then I might actually begin to trust you," I said almost cursing myself for my seemingly new habit of speaking without thinking first.

"You don't trust me?" he asked looking slightly hurt.

"I don't trust anyone," I admitted, "Trusting people with your life, I can do that. I trust you like that, along with a lot of others in this house… but my secrets? You can always tell someone something, but you can never take it back. Not completely."

"Do you have many secrets?" he asked amused.

"Don't we all?" I replied as a non-answer. He didn't leave. We stayed and he picked up a spare cloth and he helped. It was nice to not be alone, but not have anything expected of me either. Unfortunately when it was time for dinner he made sure that I followed him and I took a seat in between him and Sirius, as far away from Mrs Weasley as I could.

Fred and George teased me, Ron chatted about the Cannon's, Hermione lectured, and Ginny and I talked about what it had been like living here while I was in the states. Not that they knew that, to them I still lived my aunt and uncle, when in reality I couldn't even remember their names, and then Sirius asked the million dollar question.

"I'm surprised at you Sia, I thought that you'd be demanding to know all about Voldemort by now?" he asked me. I snorted, a sound that was barely heard over Mrs Weasley's shrieks of fury and Fred and George's angry complaining about him not telling them anything, even though they were of age.

"And this is why I didn't bother asking," I said shaking my head. That made them stop.

"What do you mean, he's offering to tell you everything," Ron said in surprise, "Blimey Sia, I thought that you would take the opportunity."

"You're just children, and nobody is being told anything," Mrs Weasley yelled again. I felt a bitter smile crawl over my face. The words of Mr D. popping through my head, 'That's how they usually get killed.'

"See, why bother? If they're going to be childish about it there isn't any point because we won't learn anything real anyway, so there's not much point," I said with a shrug, "It's not like it matters."

"And why doesn't it matter?" a deep voiced black man, Kingsley I thought his name was, asked.

"Because in the end Voldemort will find her anyway," Hermione said in a small voice.

"Yep and then it's back to my usual system," I said putting on a cheerful front, "I'll see if anyone try's to kill me and then work backwards and find it all out anyway. Of course they'll people dead that could have been avoided by sharing, considering Voldemort's penchant for tricksy plotting and utter fuckary, but the majority of you all seem so adamant on risking it."

"Dumbledore said," the pink haired girl said looking down.

"Hate to break it to you sweetheart but we're not pieces on a chess board. As much as they want to believe it, Dumbledore and Voldemort aren't the black and white kings, this is reality and there's too much free will for that," I informed them, "But if you want to gather around like ducks around your chosen leader I should probably warn you that it's duck hunting season, get smart or get scarce. Otherwise I wouldn't want to be you when people start firing."

"And what do you plan on doing when you're finally confronted by You-Know-Who and his death eaters?" Moody, the real one asked curiously.

"Like I said, its duck hunting season," I said sardonically, "I'm going to get myself a big gun."

"Are you thinking about killing death eaters?" Hermione asked sharply, staring at me as if she had never seen me before.

"No, I'm not thinking about it," I assured her, and I wasn't. I had already made a decision. Standing up I left them to ponder about what I had said and sat in one of the old drawing rooms. These people were… not unready, just… so choosy. As a demigod, you can afford to be choosy because it's your choices and the way that you handle things that decides if you live or you die. We learn that from a very young age.

"You told Hermione that you weren't thinking about it," Fred said drawing my attention. My head jerks up and I gaze at the twins standing in the doorway.

"But that's only because you'd already made up your mind," George finished, "You really are going to try to kill them all aren't you?" I blew out a sigh and figured out how best to explain this one. There was no judgement as they looked at me, just calm.

"Am I going to try and kill the domestic terrorists that run around raping, killing, torturing and mind raping people because of a superiority complex or am I going to try and kill the psychotic hypercritical bastard with a god complex and a big mouth?" I asked rhetorically, they waited patiently, "Yes."

"To which?" they asked together.

"To both," I said devoid of any emotion.

"Some people downstairs would say that don't deserve that and should go to prison," they replied tilting their heads in contemplation.

"Boys, I bet you ten gallons that there is a mass break out before the end of the year," I said finally.

Did I do good? Did I? Did I? Review and let me know. I'm trying not to make her too mopey to be any fun later. Not sure who the pairing should be. Gods and goddess only if you have a suggestion. Review.