Chapter Three: When the World Collapses
In the lonely hour that came just before dawn when it was neither night nor day, Cassie jerked awake. The moment she spotted the silver framed photographs grouped on her night table, Cassie realized it was only a dream. The fact that it was just a dream was of little comfort to her. It never was.
Cassie sat up and brushed her sweat soaked raven hair from her tired eyes. She leaned back against the hard wooden headboard of her bed, taking hold of the edge of the emerald drapes that covered her window and pulled them back a bit. The lights of London shimmered brightly, though faintly in the fading darkness. The sky was lighting and soon it would be day. Cassie sighed heavily and flopped back down against the pillows.
She hasn't had a good night sleep in twelve years. Sighing heavily, Cassie sat up once more and groped for her walking stick which was propped against her night table. Leaning rather heavily on her walking stick as the pain was always worse in the morning; Cassie made her way slowly over to her closet and grabbed some clothes without really looking before heading into the bathroom. After she emerged showered and dressed, Cassie took up her walking stick once more and made her way into the living room. It was like an ice box in the morning.
Pointing her wand at the fireplace, Cassie instantly conjured a roaring fire which quickly warmed the small flat. Leaning her walking stick against the moth eaten sofa, Cassie knelt before the altar to the God and Goddess. She lit the two white tapers and a stick of incense before bowing her head in prayer. Silently, she asked the God and the Goddess for guidance and that she would do their work honorably. She also asked the spirits of those who had come before her to watch over and protect her and her family.
"Blessed be," Cassie muttered softly, snuffing out the two candles and leaving incense to burn itself out. Wincing heavily, Cassie got slowly to her feet once more. After she straightened, Cassie caught sight of her reflection in the heavy mother of pearl mirror hanging over the fireplace and froze. And for a moment she can barely recognize overly pale, drawn visage of the broken woman looking back at her. But the moment passes a second later.
Tearing her gaze away from the ugly mirror she contemplates throwing away at least a dozen times a year, Cassie made her way into the small kitchenette just off the living room. Flipping on the coffee maker, Cassie sat down at the scrubbed wooden table to wait for her owl while Salazar, the scarred white cat that once been Regulus's hopped up onto her lap and began purring loudly. Cassie reached down and scratched his soft head. No sooner had she sat down when her white owl Jareth flew in through the small kitchen window. Jareth dropped the Morning Prophet on the table and landed on the table before his owner. Cassie smiled and stroked the bird's soft feathers.
The owl hooted affectionately before flying over to his cage. Chuckling softly, Cassie unrolled the paper and found a man staring back at her. Although twelve years in the worst place on earth had made him unrecognizable, Cassie would know him anywhere no matter how years had past and what horrors had befallen him. And for several moments, Cassie found she could not move or speak. All she could was gaze down into the sunken eyes of her brother.
It was the shouting that woke him. Well, not shouting really. His father and aunt never shouted. But now they talking loader then Alexis had ever heard them speak before. Alexis sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes as the exhaustion faded and the worry arose.
He slipped quietly from his bed and put his sock covered feet into his battered Converse without bothering to lace them up. Alexis made his way as quietly as he could into the hall. Their voices were getting louder and louder. When Alexis began making his way down the stairs, he could hear every word they were saying. And this did little to put him at ease.
"What are we going to do?" his father was saying, his voice anxious and tight. "What else can we do?" Cassie said, though her voice was as serene and calm as always there was an underlying worry in her tone. "You know what will happen if we don't. They'll take him from us faster than you can say 'Quidditch'." Alexis felt the bottom drop out his stomach and his blood ran cold. They were talking about him.
Oh Gods, had someone found out about what they were doing? Was the Ministry going to take him away? Alexis descended the stairs at last and crept towards the sitting room. The sight he came upon did nothing to reassure him. His father was seated on the couch holding his head in his hands like a burden looking as pale as if he had endured another transformation.
Cassie was on her feet, pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. Her beautiful face was overly pale and drawn, her eyes filled with a mixture of worry and a desperate sorrow and her hair was free from it's usual braid and fell down in back in a mess of wet tangles. Alexis had never seen his aunt who was so strong and so brave looking so scared and the sight terrified him. "Dad?" Alexis said as he stepped fully into the living room. Two heads snapped in his direction, both staring at him in a mixture of surprise and worry.
The sight was almost comical. "What's going on?" Alexis asked, taking a step closer. Cassie and Remus shared a look and Alexis wondered as he had many times in the past if they could somehow communicate telepathically. "He has a right to know," Remus said finally and Cassie nodded. Alexis braced himself for the horrible news to come but rather than speaking, his aunt picked up the newspaper from the coffee table and handed it to him.
Puzzled, Alexis glanced down at the front page and found a man staring back at him. The man was looked wasted and frail with a tangle a raven hair that hung to his elbows. In fact, if it were not for the gleaming eyes staring up at him, Alexis would've thought the man was a corpse. Alexis knew those eyes. They were his eyes.
A quick glance at the headline confirmed the sinking feeling in his chest. BLACK ESCAPES FROM AZKABAN.
Even after all these years, she was still his first thought. The moment Severus had unfolded the paper and seen Black's wasted face staring back at him his first thought was not disbelief or even anger which he expected, no, it was her. It had been almost a decade since they had seen each other face to face but the moment he set eyes on Black, he thought of her. There had always been a faint resemblance between them, as much as Severus liked to pretend there wasn't. They both had the same perfect aristocratic features and raven hair so dark it looked like a hole cut in reality.
Though no one would be able to tell that now, he thought as he gazed down at Black's corpse like face. Severus expected to feel a sense of satisfaction at this thought but was surprised to find there was none. All he could think about was her standing in that door way, her beautiful face was a black and blue mess devoid of what little color she had and looking so utterly broken and lost yet defiant and strong all at the same time. Although they had seen each other several times since the day after Black's arrest, each time had been utter agony for Severus. And finally, he could do it any longer.
He expected her to be angry, to rail at him and hate him for what he was doing to her after all she had already suffered and he had already done to her. And he wouldn't have blamed her if she had. But instead she had smiled at him from across the table. They had the same smile, not even Severus had been able to deny that. She had started smoking by then and the smoke from her cigarette circled her head like a misshapen halo.
No, she hadn't been angry. She was never angry. Instead she had nodded and said she understood, grinding out her cigarette in the ashtray as she got to her feet. He had started to apologize but she merely waved his words away and reassured him that she wasn't angry nor did she blame him. "They all leave you sooner or later, it's just a matter of when," she said with a faint smile.
There was no sadness in her voice as she said this, just a resigned weariness of one accustomed to loss. Then she had kissed him on the cheek and walked away. Severus hadn't seen her since. But the letters came eight times a year, one on each Sabbat. Although Severus did not subscribe to the same religious theory she did, or any for that matter, he admired her dedication.
She still considered him her friend, even after all that had transpired between them. There was much to be said, Severus thought, for that kind of loyalty. Gazing down at Black, who was nearly unrecognizable as his childhood tormentor, Severus wondered just how deep that loyalty ran.
It was the sound of the cup hitting the ground and shattering that brought Ted into the kitchen. The second he saw her face, he something terrible had happened. Andromeda stood at the sink as though frozen, her face was devoid of color and her hands were shaking as if she were freezing. The fragile china tea cup was in fragments at her feet and the Daily Prophet was clutched in her hand. "Meda, Meda, what's wrong?" he asked, coming to stand beside his wife.
Andromeda didn't say a word; she just gazed up at him looking as terrified as she had that Halloween night so many years ago. Ted pried that crumpled paper from her hand and smoothed it out as best he could. And found the wasted face of Sirius Black staring back at him.
Narcissa lifted the heavy oval shaped silver frame down from her bookshelf, handling it as if it was the most fragile of butterflies. It was the only picture she had of them together. Sitting down on the chaise lounge, Narcissa gazed down at the picture in her shaky pale hands. Bella looked haughty and proud, her beautiful face not quite masking the cold cruelness in her grey eyes. Her strong hand was on Annie's shoulder, gripping her as if trying to keep the younger girl in her place.
Annie's beautiful face is twisted into a strangled smile that looks utterly painful. She was so unhappy, even then. Looking back, Narcissa wonders if Annie was ever happy with them. Narcissa looked at herself, holding Annie's hand and beaming. A fairy princess all dressed in white.
She had been happy, blissfully, ignorantly happy. Well, perhaps ignorant was too strong a word. Innocent may have been a more accurate term. Sirius was standing beside her, looking handsome and utterly uncomfortable while Regulus simply looked lost and lonely, even surrounded by family. Cassie was between her brothers, easily the shortest of the group and looking like a beautiful china doll in a velvet emerald dress, gripping their hands in hers so hard that her tiny knuckles had turned white.
None of them were smiling. They weren't even bothering to fake it like Annie. Maybe they simply couldn't bring themselves to do it. Narcissa could still see the two of them so clearly, Sirius and Cassie. She could see the sadness on their faces, the pain in their eyes even when they were smiling.
The desperate pleading way they looked at people. She could still see the bruises hidden beneath long sleeves. The split lips and blackened eyes. She had seen the aftermath the night Sirius had left for good. Debris from broken furniture and shattered glass covered the floor.
Bloody handprints that stood out livid and ugly on the emerald walls. Regulus, sporting a large and badly bleeding cut on his forehead was standing in the foyer looking so shaken and pale it was a wonder he was even still standing. There was blood on the floor, a lot of it. Narcissa had never seen so much blood. And for one terrible moment she thought he'd killed one or both of them.
But there she was, sitting on the steps with an unsettling casualness almost as if she were simply waiting for the Knight Bus. Her robes were in tatters and spotted with blood. She had looked up when she heard Narcissa's footsteps and smiled. Her beautiful face was so bruised it was a wonder she could do such a thing. And yet there she sat on the steps amidst the debris, bloody, battered and smiling.
Narcissa didn't realize she was crying until her tears fell onto the glass and blurred the youthful faces.
When the two Aurors left, Remus sank tiredly onto the thread bare sofa. Remus had been expecting them, as a known friend of Sirius Black and a werewolf he was likely to be questioned about the recent escape. John Dawlish, one of the Aurors that questioned Remus seemed rather skittish and nervous about being in the company of a known werewolf. Remus nearly lost his temper with the man several times when he had tried to twist around everything Remus was saying into an admission of guilt. As if he had sensed Remus was about to say something very stupid Kingsley Shacklebolt, the Auror heading the search for Sirius, had taken over the questioning.
Kingsley seemed like a fair, objective person but was also very dedicated to recovering the escaped prisoner. He was also one of the men who arrested Sirius twelve years ago. Sighing heavily, Remus lowered his head into his hands and held it like a burden. He hadn't felt this lost or utterly helpless in twelve years. Sirius had escaped from Azkaban.
Even as Remus was sitting there trying to make sense of what had happened, Sirius was out there somewhere. As much as Remus tried to deny it, he hoped that wherever he was that Sirius was all right.
And he hated himself for it.
