A/N: As always, thanks go to my lovely betas. Special thanks for my darling Noxen, who prodded me into finally finishing editing and posting this beast of a chapter. Finally, we're starting to go places! Please let me know what you think: very few people are reading this bad boy, and while I don't mind that, I do like hearing back from the few of you that are. :D
Disclaimer: I own actual piles and mountains of nothing.
With a shriek of metal-on-metal, the Hogwarts Express stops so suddenly that everyone in Sirius' carriage is tossed around. Peter lands half in the seat where Sirius and Remus had sat, face sliding so violently along the upholstery that dots of blood rise to the surface of his skin. James and Sirius end up toppled on the opposite seat, a mesh of limbs and awkwardness. Stunned from an unplanned headbutt that has stars flickering behind Sirius' eyes.
One of the few benefits of being of a werewolf are the reflexes. Remus stays upright, though he'd cracked his head against the window hard enough to draw blood.
"What the bloody hell?" James demands, struggling for freedom. Once achieved he seems a bit ginger, as Sirius accidentally kneed him in the ribs when they were violently thrown together. "What's going on?"
"My face!" Sitting back on his bottom and not bothering to get off the floor, Peter cradles his bleeding, hot and aching face with both hands. "How bad is it? Am I bleeding? Merlin's saggy Y-fronts, that bloody hurt!"
From the other carriages and narrow corridor, Sirius can hear other students groaning, cursing, and demanding to know what's happened. Poking his head out the door, Sirius sees many others doing the same.
"People are boarding the train," Remus makes this announcement while leaning out of the window. His sandy curls move in light wind, and under his scars he's white. When he looks to his three friends, Sirius can read the tension and worry in the werewolf's face. "Something's wrong."
"Get your wands out," James orders. Sirius' is already in hand, a comfortable extension of his arm.
Sirius pulls Peter up, checking to make sure he can stand on his own. (Peter's not as sturdy as the rest of them; for all Sirius teases the other boy, he doesn't want Pete to really hurt himself) Once assured of Peter's relative health, he announces, "I'm fetching Riley." A cold knot of fear fills his stomach... he doesn't know what's happening, but it doesn't feel right.
In the corridor, Sirius finds robed and hooded strangers. Their faces are obscured by magic: Sirius tries to stare through it, but attempting it makes his head throb and his eyes ache at first glance. Looking for more than a few seconds makes him gag and sway.
"Please remain calm," a soothing male voice says. A wizard steps forward, robes rustling softly around his legs. His hands are held up in a placating gesturing. "We are not here to harm any of you. We simply ask that the muggleborn students step forward. We're going to escort you back to London, where you may return to your parents."
Sirius' blood turns to ice. Rage and fear mix together, while bile rises in the back of his throat. Voldemort's followers are on the Hogwarts Express. They may be pretending to be reasonable, but Sirius knows, with a frigid certainty that hurts as badly as a knife wound, if any of the students are taken away they'll never be whole again.
Students press into the doorways of the carriages. Others spill out, torn between curiosity and fear. Looking behind him, Sirius sees Lily Evans, painfully white and obviously scared. Wynne is trying to tug the other girl back into the carriage, to no avail.
Even at a distance, Sirius can see how terrified his Riley is.
Intending to go to her, Sirius pushes past a burly seventh year. A glance of his shoulder confirms James is following.
"None of the students are getting off this train." Donovan Slaughter has a deep, booming voice when he projects, and at this moment it bounces off the ceiling and walls. It brings an end to not only the terrified whispers of untried first years, but the nervous rumblings of the older students.
A pause. James bumps into his back, and Sirius can almost hear the unasked question – what are we going to do? Finally he turns, waiting to see what will happen now that Slaughter's stepped forward. It doesn't feel right to turn his back on Wynne, but it doesn't feel right to not make a stand, either. There's no right choice,and this understanding only fuels Sirius' anger.
"Anaxos Slaughter's youngest boy, aren't you?" Something in his voice implying a smile, the previous speaker takes a step toward Donovan. Though magic distorts the pitch of it, there's something familiar there... Sirius wonders who hides behind the concealing charm and robe. Some of his family, no doubt. "A commendable motion you're making, young man, protecting your fellow classmates. However I assure you, they are in no danger. We are simply going to return to the children to their rightful place, and allow the rest of you to go on to yours. All will be set right."
"Didn't you hear him?" demands James. He pushes through the crowd with Sirius. "He said none of us are getting off the train."
"Sirius!" Wynne's voice is a hiss of anxiety. He twists just enough to slice a hand through air, motioning for her silence. She's clutching her wand, looking very much as though she may faint or vomit at any moment. Merriweather is behind her, taunt and glowering over the smaller girl's head.
"As I said, everything will be fine. Muggleborns, please step forward. We can get this over with quickly and painlessly." The threat here is unspoken yet terribly clear: there is a harder, more violent option. One they are not opposed to using, if the need arises.
"Are you standing with them, Sirius?" That voice – Sirius would know anywhere anywhere. Even with the distortion, the haughty drawl and manic tone resonates through Sirius' mind. It's Bellatrix; beautiful, mad, cruel Bellatrix. Sirius has no doubt that she would relish the chance to litter the Hogwarts Express with the bodies of mudbloods... in fact, she is most certainly aching to do just that even now.
The incredibly dangerous and half-mad witch comes forward. Her movements are of a lioness stalking prey, slow and deliberate. Despite the magic disguising her face, it is easy to see her identity in the way she moves and holds herself. If he ignores the faces and focuses on bodies, Sirius realizes he can pick out many from the way they hold their wands, the build of a body, especially the silvery blonde hair that has spilled over a shoulder to peak out of a deep hood.
Lucius Malfoy... Richard Nott... Bella's husband Rodolphus. The last few he cannot place, and assumes they are not of a high enough social class to be a part of his parent's circle.
Bellatrix begins to speak, lifting a finger to slice the air between she and her younger cousin. "You were born into the most ancient and noble of families. Your blood is more precious than any amount of gold or jewels –"
"It's only blood," Sirius harshly cuts her off. "No better or worse than a muggleborn's, muggle's, or squib's. It's just the same."
Mimicking the shriek of a tea kettle at boil, Bellatrix lifts her want. She is all wildness, rage, and the most potent threat Sirius has ever faced. He doesn't have the time to panic, as he knows what Bella is capable of. This witch has gone far beyond simple violence; she makes an art out of torture. It's clear to Sirius that she is about to do something nasty, recognizing the mad gleam in her eyes.
Immediately Sirius hits the floor, and his cousin's curse flies over his head. A scream; someone else has been hit by it, but there is no time to worry.
The first curse that comes to mind is Tarantallegra. Childish, yes, but effective: Bellatrix did not expect such a move.
Shrieking, Bella twirls backwards before toppling. There she remains, flailing and flopping like a fish on land. The shame of it may just be enough to do her in. "I'm going to kill the little brat!" she howls while her husband frees her. Sirius knows he ought to be very worried...but honestly, he can't stop laughing.
"Nice one!" James chortles, taking the time to pat Sirius on the shoulder. He does not, Sirius notes approvingly, lower his wand.
"Ow – ow! Let me go!" Wynne's voice breaks Sirius from his amusement far more efficiently than an attack from the enemy before him could have.
Automatically turning at look, Sirius sees Regulus frog marching Wynne forward. He has to blink twice, disbelief washing over him in numbing waves. Though she's squirming and trying to kick, Regulus easily keeps her overpowered with his long arms and wiry strength.
"Here's one," says Regulus, present Wynne to Voldemort's followers. His wand remains at her side, a terrible and clear threat. "They won't be hurt? They'll just go back where they came from?"
"Of course," Lucius assures Regulus, all oil and slime. "We would never harm... children."
The look Regulus bestows on Wynne is one of pure and absolute loathing. It twists Sirius stomach – when did his little brother learn to hate like this? "Take this mudblood first, then."
"Reg, what are you –" Sirius chokes on his disbelieving rage, unable to get the rest of question out. He can't believe his own brother is turning against him and hurting Wynne. The only reason Regulus is offering her up is because she is Sirius' friend... no, because they're more than friends.
Sirius had told his brother about Wynne over the summer: funny stories and her habit of stealing his socks, how she's hopeless at Arithmancy but is brilliant at potions. Even about her passion for music, hoping Regulus would see how much they have in common.
He hadn't thought it enough to give his brother an insight into his complicated feelings for the girl. A mistake on his part, and one he already regrets. Deeply. All of this and more runs through Sirius' mind, a frantic rush of terror and wrath and shame... though one instinct consumes it all to wholly overtake Sirius.
He must protect her.
Lucius Malfoy reaches out to take Wynne –
She shrinks back, eyes huge and fearful –
Sirius is lifting his wand. Merlin save him, but he's got Crucio on the tip of his tongue, just like his father taught him –
Barreling through the tightly crowded corridor to do so, Donovan Slaughter grabs Malfoy's arm and twists. "You put a fucking finger on her, and I'll reach down your throat and pull you inside out by your prick." Slaughter picks Lucius up, huge hands knotted in his robes. He hurls Malfoy hard enough that Wynne's would-be attacker soars into Nott. They seem to shatter on impact, crumpling to the floor in groans and shouts of pain.
Immediately Slaughter turns his attention to Regulus, murder shining in his blue eyes. "Kid, you let her go. Or I will break you in half."
Regulus stares up at him, lips curled in a stubborn sneer. A part of Sirius urges his brother to get the hell out of the Ravenclaw's way before his neck is snapped. The rest viciously hopes Wynne's friend breaks both Regulus' arms for what he's done. Or that he'll simply step aside and let Sirius go at him with nothing more than a beater's bat and a belly full of hot wrath.
The curse breaks the tense stand-off by slamming into Slaughter's back with a spray of blood and the sickening sound of rending flesh. The Ravenclaw grunts and stumbles from the first impact, confusion clearly written across his face. With wide eyes he stares helplessly at Wynne, who is fighting like a rabid wolf to get away from Regulus this point.
Both of his huge hands press against his chest, as though he might feel the wound through muscle and bone. With a small groan of unimaginable pain, Slaughter collapses into a growing puddle of his own blood.
Wynne's scream is horrifically loud, cutting high over the cries and sobs of other students. Shrill and horrified, the sound drives through Sirius' skull, a drill tearing through bone. He staggers from the sheer horror in that nightmare of a shriek and only moments later a hex slams into his side.
Students begin fighting students. Sirius hexes a forth year Slytherin that rushes him in time to catch sight of Wynne breaking free of Regulus' hold by slamming the back of her head against his chin. Blood flies from Reg's mouth as he cries out and takes an involuntary step back. Immediately Wynne turns on him, clawing at his face and neck with her sharp nails.
Loud pops and bangs of displaced air announce that while Voldemort's cronies are Dissapparating, professors and Aurors are Apparating onto the train. Dumbledore appears with a crack, very nearly slamming into Remus in doing so.
Wand to his throat, the Headmaster casts Sonorus. "Enough!" his deep voice booms across the train.
All students becomes perfectly, terribly still. Sirius discretely wipes his bloody knuckles on his robes, and slides a bit to left. He hopes he won't be connected to having just attempted to knock Arty Carrol's face in.
"Students return their carriages at once. Prefects begin circulating and checking all students. Report to the nearest Professor or Auror if you find someone injured." Command issued, Dumbledore follows it up with a steely gaze that brooks no argument.
The corridor begins to slowly empty. Making his way to Wynne is a fight, swimming upriver against a current of students. By the time he makes it to her side Slaughter has been taken away by Aurors, though Wynne's hands and robes are stained with his blood.
Looking to Sirius with a strangely empty expression, Wynne speaks. "They took Van to St. Mungo's." Gesturing vaguely, she's obviously confused. "He was bleeding a lot. It was... bad." Her voice, already thin, cracks. Tears well in her eyes, and this is worse than any physical or magical injury Sirius has ever endured.
Countering her fear, he says, "Slaughter'll be fine." Sirius has always cherished the truth over lies, but this time... Wynne would shatter if he acknowledged how badly Slaughter was hurt. Even at a distance he could see it was clearly a major injury, mostly likely life-threatening.
"Sirius?" she asks, still in that strange, slow way. "Why are you green?"
Pausing a moment, Sirius looks at his hands. His skin is green, thick and warty. Who attempts to turn an opponent into a frog during a fight? He wonders, exasperated. "I was cursed, nothing major. Let's get you cleaned up, though, okay?"
An Auror with spots and a few lonely looking chin hairs intercepts them, asking questions too sharp and quick for Wynne to follow. His tone is short and accusatory, as though Wynne was somehow at fault for what happened. When his questions turn to Slaughter, and Wynne starts crying again. Not loudly, just... just crying, a helpless sort of reaction.
"Leave her alone," Sirius snaps, blood boiling. "She's upset enough as it is."
The swot sneers at Sirius, taking a half step forward."This is a Ministry investigation, boy – and you'd do well to watch your mouth, Black. What, think I didn't know who you are? You so worried about your bit of fluff, but I know what you are. Just the same as the rest of your pureblood family."
Thankfully another Auror steps in, perhaps scenting the danger. "Trant, walk away. Now."
The Auror tosses a scowl at Sirius before stalking away, back rigid and fists balled at his sides. Sirius is so enraged he wants to spit fire – does the arse think he chose to be a Black? That he wanted to put his Riley in danger?
"I'm Auror Benshire. If you'll return to your carriage, I need to take a statement from you both." This Auror is an older witch, gray at her temples and iron in her tone. She follows behind as Sirius guides Wynne back to his carriage, too shaken and on edge to let her out of his sight at the moment.
Once in the carriage, Benshire takes the time to lift Sirius' curse – as he was starting to feel rather dried out, it couldn't have come at a better time. After photographs are taken, Wynne is cleaned of Slaughter's blood, and she even heals Peter's face. Lastly, she produces both chocolate and a blanket. The chocolate is broken into hunks and passed around, while Benshire tucks the warm flannel blanket around Wynne's shoulders.
"Now then, tell me what happened." There is a gentleness to her tone that Wynne responds to, sucking back tears and wiping her cheeks clean with a trembling hand.
As Wynne explains her part in the attack, Sirius tunes her out: he can't stomach hearing it. Staring out of the window at the peaceful country side, he searches for some measure of calm. Numbness is beginning to settle around him, a most welcome shield from the aftermath.
With a certain measure of remoteness, Sirius realizes that if the witches and wizards that attacked had been serious – if they hadn't tried to avoid using force – they all would've been killed. And easily. He's seen Bellatrix kill, and it's so... so simple, for her. A flick of her wand, two hissed words, and then there's nothing more than an empty, cooling corpse.
Sirius wishes he didn't know the secrets of the Black estates, how muggles are taken and tortured at the pleasure of the most ancient and honorable Black family members. If he didn't know the truth, perhaps he'd be more optimistic about their chance of survival if another attack should occur. Or rather when.
It's always been heading for this, hasn't it? From the first moment that Voldemort was only a whisper and vague idea known by a few, this was always going to be the end result.
When it is Sirius' turn to speak, to explain his actions and everything he saw, he does so as concisely as possible... and as emotionless as he can. Now is not the time to dive into the rage and fear and desperation he felt when his brother – his own fucking brother – marched Wynne forward...
"You kids were very brave," Benshire admits. "But if something like this happens again, you need to attempt to stay out of the way. You could've been... hurt."
She doesn't say killed. But Sirius looks at his friends, shares their gazes and knows they heard what was left unsaid.
You could've been killed.
A small number of Aurors and a few professors stay on the Hogwarts Express when the train begins chugging along once more. They patrol up and down the corridor, which is too silent and still.
Merriweather comes to their carriage not long after, seemingly relieved to find her friend. She spends the rest of the ride with them, bracketing Wynne with Sirius, the pair of them matching, brooding, bookshelves. Wynne leans into Sirius while holding one of Merriweather's hand, staring at her knees.
No one finds the energy to speak.
-X-
In addition to Slaughter, the Head Boy and Head Girl, two Prefects, a second year Ravenclaw, and the train conductor are taken to St. Mungo's for their injuries. Twelve students are taken the Hospital Wing upon arriving at the school – Wynne included, as a precaution. She skips the (much subdued) Sorting Ceremony and dinner, and though Sirius looks for her the common room, she's nowhere to be found.
"Fucking staircase," he grumbles at the traitorous stones that guard the sanctity of the girls' tower. He wants to bolt up them and find Wynne, though he doesn't know what to do or say. Regulus' actions actually scared Sirius, left him sick to his stomach and so angry he can still barely function. He can't believe that his own brother – goofy little Reg with permanently ink stained fingers and that dorky laugh – has fallen so far into their family's insanity as to offer Wynne up like a sacrificial lamb.
And all because of her ties to Sirius. It's a knife between his ribs.
Sirius sulks his way up to his dormitory, snagging a pair of pajamas before heading to the bathroom for a hot shower. He stands under the scalding spray for a long time, actively attempting to simply not think. Unfortunately he fails.
Wynne could have been hurt. Wynne could have died. And, in the end, it would have been his fault.
Sirius is scared, angry, and guilty: so guilty he thinks he'll implode from the sheer force of it. So he pushes it away, turns his anger on Regulus and Voldemort and the scum-lickers that are low and cruel enough to follow their precious Dark Lord.
"Have you drowned?" Remus' words echo in the steamy chamber.
Sighing, Sirius slicks his long hair back before poking his head out. "Attempting to grow gills," he attempts to joke. "I'll be out in a few."
When he returns to the dorm room, it becomes obvious that his friends have been waiting for him. Peter sits on Remus' bed, looking small and sad. He twiddles his thumbs and chews nervously at his lower lip, never quite looking up. James is playing with a snitch, a quick series of catch and releases.
"So," Sirius says, and then nothing else. What the hell is he supposed to say? The awkwardness makes him angrier than ever – he's been dying to come back to Hogwarts, to his friends and real home. Now he's back and his bloody 'family' is still ruining everything.
"Are you okay?" James finally asks, without actually looking at Sirius. He focuses on the snitch too intently, as though trying to fool them all into thinking he's more interested in it than Sirius' answer.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Of course I'm fine." His words are too sharp. They've got the edges of a sword blade, and it makes him scowl.
"Your brother tried to give your girlfriend to Voldemort's followers," Peter blurts with all his usual tact. "I'm upset about it, and it didn't even happen to me. Directly. Mostly because I was hiding, like the bloody coward I am." There's a lot of bitterness there, more than Sirius has ever heard from chubby little Pete before.
"Yes, thanks. Nothing gets past you, does it, Pettigrew?"
Peter flinches at Sirius' scathing words.
"Don't be an arse to Pete because you're in a foul mood," Remus chastises in that quietly disapproving way. There is such a tone of disappointment to his words that it leaves a bitter taste in the mouth of all those that hear it.
Toppling onto his bed, Sirius tosses an arm over his eyes. "Sorry," he says after several deep breathes. "I'm... tense."
"That was really fucked up, what happened today." James lets out a long, angry breath. "We couldn't do anything, you know? We couldn't really fight. It was pathetic. If they'd really been trying, we'd all be dead."
"I don't understand," Peter says tauntly. "Why weren't they trying? Why didn't they just start killing muggleborns?"
"Because it'd look bad," answers Remus, as exhausted as an old man. He sounds worn and wrung out, ready to lie down and be done. "I heard Dumbledore and McGonagall talking to Alastor Moody, and they think Voldemort sent them to make a show of it. To nicely ask the muggleborns to come away, and so later on they could say they had tried everything: so Voldemort can say he gave them a fair chance."
"That's stupid! A fair chance? Merlin knows where he would have herded them off to!" James seems angry enough to start punching holes in the walls.
Grimly Remus states, "If any muggleborns had been taken, they'd have been killed. I'm sure of it."
"If they were lucky, they'd have been killed. The Dark Arts..." Sirius draws in a ragged breath, flooded by memories of his parents teachings and the old, ugly tomes in the library. "There are ways to break the magical core of a witch or wizard. It's terrible... it's... it's inhuman. The cruelest thing I've ever seen. He might have done that. He probably would've and will, if he gets the chance."
Silence. Shocked, ugly, sickened silence. Sirius wishes he didn't know what he does. He wishes he knew more. He wishes, desperately, to be fully grown and fully trained. Out in the real the world there's a war going on, a war so massive and dark it's even touching Hogwarts, a place he once believed to be untouchable.
More than any of that (more important than anything else, though he doesn't want to admit it), this war's already hurt his Riley. He can't allow it to happen again – he simply can't. A promise is made, even if it's only to himself: Sirius will keep Wynne safe, from any Dark witch or wizard, from any Dark Lord that may rise up.
"Alice Dankworth got caught trying to sneak out," Peter announces suddenly. "She was going to go see Frank at St. Mungo's. Hagrid caught her."
As Head Boy, Frank Longbottom attempted to stop Voldemort's cronies from getting to the students – which would be why he is now in St. Mungo's.
"Poor Hagrid," James moans. "I wouldn't come between Alice and her man. She's terrifying."
"Scared of a girl?" teases Sirius, in an attempt to regain normalcy.
"Of Alice Dankworth? Of course I am! And if you had a lick of sense, Black, you'd be, too. That girl is scarier than any Dark creature."
Their talk turns to the upcoming classes, even though their hearts and minds aren't in it. They end up in bed after a short time, and it's the most awkward night Sirius can remember. Four boys in four beds pretending not to know that they're all hours from sleeping while staring at the canopies of their fourposters, brooding on the day's events.
When the door to their room creaks open, it's like a curse being cast. James bolts up, Peter hurls himself to the floor, and Remus actually growls. Sirius is up in less than a heartbeat, gripping his wand tightly.
Moonlight glints off blonde hair. When the initial rush of adrenalin wears off, Sirius realizes that he is pointing a wand at his startled girlfriend.
"Bloody hell, Wynne!" James groans, slumping bonelessly onto his mattress. "I thought you were one of them."
He doesn't need to explain who he means. They all know.
"Sorry," she whispers, as though a quiet voice will make up for it. "I, um – I'll just go. I'm sorry."
Peter pops up, waving his hands in a rather alarming fashion. "No, it's fine! Really! We're all just jumpy, you know, so it's okay. Don't mind us."
James lights a candle. In this light Sirius can see circles under Wynne's eyes and the pinched line of her usually plump mouth. With curled shoulders and arms wrapped protectively around her stomach, she appears in danger of simply attempting to curl into a tiny ball and disappear.
Holding out an arm, Sirius beckons her closer. "You wanted to see me?" Sirius doesn't know why he asks, because it's obvious. He can't imagine her coming to their room for any other reason.
"Yes," she confirms in that same little voice, still standing in the same shaft of moonlight and staring. Her eyes are huge and dark, pools of emotions that Sirius cannot – or is unwilling to – read. Finally she shuts the door, cutting off the light flowing in behind her. Her bare feet make tiny noises across the cold stone as she darts to Sirius, and she's cold enough to make him flinch at first contact.
"Sirius, I was... if you wouldn't mind..." Wynne's voice is muffled in pajama shirt, and she doesn't lift her head up. It's all so unusual; honestly, Sirius doesn't think he's ever seen Wynne so... shy. "Could I sleep in here tonight? Please?" she asks this in a rush before curling her shoulders even further, as though expecting a rejection.
It certainly wasn't what Sirius was expecting. He's baffled by her actions – it won't be the first time she's slept in their dorm room and his bed, and it's nothing after the things they were doing only yesterday.
"Duh," he answers plainly, tugging her to the bed. "Come on. You don't get all the blanket, though. I mean it." Sirius does his best to ignore the three extra pairs of eyes and ears that are pretending to not pay attention... and failing miserably in the attempt.
He gets a flash of dimples for an answer, and then Wynne is pulling back his rumpled sheet and blanket Sliding onto the mattress, her expression lightens for the first time since Regulus took hold of her.
Sirius notes how James is watching them – as though he's torn between leering and gagging – and he's quick to send his friend a foul hand gesture.
"Might have asked your roommates," James snips, without any real heat. "Maybe we don't want to a girl in here, making things smell all... girly."
"Eloquent as ever," bites Wynne, "but we all know that me being in Sirius' bed is the closest thing you'll ever have to getting a hot chick in your room. Be happy I'm gracing you with my presence."
Remus' laugh is startling in its loudness and honesty. "That's what we call a burn, James."
Potter sniffs, pushing his nose high into the air in mock indignation. "Ouch, Wynne. Really. You better be nice to me, or I'll have to insist my best friend stop dating you."
Sirius hurls a slipper at James before getting into bed.
"Yeah, uh, considering Wynne has breasts and she lets Sirius touch them, I don't think you have any say in the matter." This sound logic comes from Peter.
"Going to have to agree with Pete on this one," Sirius confirms.
"I just can't win against breasts," James sighs dramatically. "But of course not. No worries, my dear brother of the heart, I understand. They're very nice."
"Well, thank you very much. I'm glad you approve." Wynne seems positively chuffed.
A chorus of goodnights go up, started and ended by Wynne. Before settling down she pulls the curtains on her side of the bed, and Sirius follows suit on his. She casts silencing spells on the fabric, leaving them cocooned in darkness and the freedom to say whatever they'd like.
Sirius lights up the tip of his wand, watching as Wynne props her own on the small ledge above his bed. Immediately she begins squirming around and pulling her nightgown up and off, while Sirius gapes. He certainly wasn't expecting this.
"Shirt," she commands rather than asks, tossing the gown to the foot of the bed. "Please. I... I'd like contact. It... I just... please."
Sirius strips so quickly he flails an elbow and then a leg out of the curtains. He's quick to yank them back fully closed, though he can hear Remus' badly muffled laughter at the sight it must have made.
Sirius tosses his pajamas down by Wynne's, barely managing to lie down on his side before she's pressed against him. She's completely nude – even her knickers are gone – and she lies against Sirius' back and tucks a leg between his own. Tossing an arm over his side to palm his stomach, Wynne's sigh of contentment is stirring and warm. He can feel the tickle of her eyelashes against his shoulder blade as she releases another long exhale.
"I was really afraid," Wynne admits, and something in Sirius' chest clinches painfully. "When... that happened. On the train."
"You're fine, though. Nothing happened to you." Keeping his voice as light as he can, Sirius takes a tight grip on the hand previously resting on his stomach. He thread their fingers together, sick with the thought of what could have occurred.
"I know... I just... " Wynne shrugs awkwardly, squeezing his fingers. "Your brother hates me, Sirius. Really, truly hates me."
He doesn't deny it, as there isn't any point. Sirius Black is an excellent liar when he needs to be, but lying to Wynne isn't something he's comfortable with. Above anything else, they're friends, and friends are always honest.
"I don't hate you," he says instead.
"I know," she answers, tucking her forehead between his shoulders. "I'm glad. I don't hate you, either."
With Wynne at his side, it's surprisingly easy to fall asleep.