A/N: This is slightly delayed because I was travelling. Apologies, and I'll do my best not to be delayed this weekend…. We'll see!

-C

Sirius was too nosey and perceptive for Sanna's good. She'd fielded his knowing glances fairly well, but when they were sent on a mission doing protective spells in Muggle neighborhoods in Wales with a high number of Half-blood and Muggleborn children, she tried not to let him ask questions.

But two cheap hotels in, it was only a matter of time.

"It's a double," the man at the desk informed them, "but we've just got the one double bed, instead of two singles. Is that alright?"

"Fine," Sanna said, frowning.

Technically, it was fine. They didn't have any qualms about sharing a bed, and at least it wasn't a single. Sirius took the keys and they took the stairs—he was uneasy about elevators—and went straight to their room, doing a series of protective enchantments over the building before they unpacked for the night.

"Was he any good?" Sirius said, finally taking her silence and using it as an opening for what he'd been dying to ask since she spent the night at Gideon's.

"I don't know what you mean," she said with a sniff.

"Yes, you do," he said, grinning as she went to check out the bath. The last two had been completely unsanitary, and she was hoping this one would be decent enough to use. Sirius followed her, slipping into the room behind her as she moved the curtain to see the tub. It was serviceable enough.

"Stop being a child, Sirius," she said, rolling her eyes.

"I know you slept with him," he said, grinning, touching her waist. "I just want you to tell me about it."

"Sirius, that's gross."

"Remus told me."

"So, ask Gideon!"

He laughed and wrapped his arms around her waist, squeezing her into a crushing hug. She laughed, but he didn't let go. She tried to brush him off, and his lips brushed her ear. She froze.

"Were you top or bottom?" he teased, and she tried to wriggle away. "Tell me or I won't let go."

She thought she could try to pinch him and get free—she knew a few ways—but she didn't want to go through this every time they had a little bit of free time. He was exceedingly stubborn, and he would outlast her.

"Bottom," she said, knowing he already knew she'd been on bottom with Remus.

"Ah, he's doomed," Sirius teased.

"Doomed?" she said with a laugh. "What are you talking about?"

He rolled his eyes and said, "C'mon, that's boring. I know that's why you and Remus split, even if he doesn't."

"But it's not," she said, laughing nervously. "I just fell out of love."

"Well, sure," he said, shrugging. "Because he was always on top."

"I like being on bottom," she said, frowning.

Sirius laughed and said, "Really? Darling, I've always imagined you'd be a top." She shook her head, but he didn't let up, backing her further into the bathroom. "Controlling the pace, taking what you want, with space to arch and stretch and express." She tried not to shiver, but something about the way he said it was disturbingly sultry.

She tried to squeeze around him and he stopped her, leaning close.

"He didn't even do anything kinky, did he?" he teased, leaning close. "I think you'd enjoy something a little kinky."

Her whole body seemed to be charged with a bolt of sexual lightning, and she just wanted it to stop. She rolled her eyes, forced a laugh, and said, "Sirius, you know nothing of what I want."

But the smile in his eyes said he knew the truth, that the things he was saying were far more appealing than she would have thought, before he said them. She brushed him off, and he didn't bother her again until it was time for bed.

"Would you be more comfortable if I were a dog tonight?" he asked as she changed, the bathroom door closed between them. She pursed her lips. It would be nice, after all the sexual talk, but she reminded him there weren't pets allowed at this hotel, and they didn't want to cause trouble.

When she came out, he was shirtless, getting into bed. It was hot in the room—she knew it would be unreasonable to make him put on a shirt—but he never slept shirtless when they were home. She often forgot how disgustingly perfect his chest was. She took a few deep breaths, trying not to think of the kiss as she got into bed on the other side, rolling onto her side and closing her eyes.

He fell asleep quickly, but she stayed awake, staring at the city through the steamed-up window. She wasn't surprised when he rolled over in his sleep, his body searching for her in the night. She wondered what he'd done while she'd been with Gideon, if he'd just tossed and turned, trying to find her as he slept.

Sanna didn't move away when he did find her, wrapping an arm about her waist and hooking a leg over her legs. He pulled her body back into his, and she closed her eyes, not struggling against the pull. She breathed deeply the scent of his soap, the warmth of his body, the heat of his hand on her waist. He pressed his face into her hair at her neck, humming softly against her skin. Sanna could feel a bulge against the small of her back, hard and thick where it sandwiched between them.

She already knew he was larger than Gideon—when the boys got drunk in fifth year and measured, as boys do, Sirius couldn't help giving her the list in order, thinking she would be pleased that he was second only to Remus in length and girth, as if it had anything to do with her—but somehow, after all the ridiculous things people were saying and the strange way he thought her sex life was normal conversation, especially the way he wanted to talk about it…. Somehow knowing was more meaningful as he clung to her in that hotel room.

Not that she had any issues with her sex with Gideon. He could use a bit of training up, as he didn't have Remus's natural aggression, but he did learn quickly, and he'd been exceedingly eager to please. But all of Sirius's talk made her head spin, so she started to question herself, and she hated doing that.

Doing cleaning duty with Peter the next week was a nice break from her relationship drama, although they had other things to discuss that she didn't want to think about.

"I mean, I always knew it could happen," Sanna said with a shiver. "Or rather, that it would happen, statistically, to some of us. But Edgar Bones? He was always so…innocuous. I figured they'd go for someone really dangerous and antagonistic like Sirius or Dorcas or Mad-Eye. Although, I'm starting to think Mad-Eye's immortal, just loses bits of himself instead of his life."

"I never thought about it," Peter said from the lower cupboards, where he was checking that pots were in the right places and nonperishables weren't out of date.

"About Mad-Eye's mortality?"

"No. Well, yes, but, about dying. About any of us dying. I never thought about it before this."

Sanna blinked and looked down at where he was, sniffing a box of crackers.

"You hadn't thought you might die?" she asked, puzzled. "When Dumbledore laid out the concept of the Order, you didn't think you might die?"

"No," he said, shrugging, his cheeks going pink. "I probably should have, though, shouldn't I? Is that stupid of me?"

"I don't know," she said, shrugging. "Not stupid, I guess, but…. Well, I guess you're thinking about it now."

"I don't want to die," he said, almost too quickly. "I…does that make me a coward?"

Sanna shrugged. She doubted he'd make Gryffindor as a coward.

"I think it makes you human," she said, checking the worktops off her list. "I certainly don't want to die."

"But I'm…afraid to die."

"It's normal," she said, although she wasn't sure if she was afraid to die. She might be, but she'd never given it enough thought to say for certain.

"Sirius isn't afraid to die."

"Maybe not," she said with a small laugh. "I've never asked. He's just as human as the rest of us, though. I think if he's not afraid to die, it's because he's too impulsive to think of the consequences of his death."

Peter asked Sanna, haltingly, whether she thought Sirius would think him a coward because he didn't want to die.

"Well, why should you care?" she said with a laugh. "Honestly, Peter, if you were ever silly enough to tell him, I don't know what he'd say. But if he was stupid enough to call you a coward, I'd dare him to call me one."

"He never would," Peter said quickly, eyes wide.

No one, especially not Sirius, was daft enough to call her a coward.

Sanna and Peter moved to the hall, where he checked the bedrooms used as stopovers and makeshift clinics, and Sanna took the bathroom. She knew Peter could be a bit squeamish, and she didn't want to embarrass him while he was already feeling self-conscious.

In truth, Edgar's death was more than startling to her. She'd thought of little else since she heard the news, and the dampening effect on everyone she knew in the Order had been immediate and pervasive. She'd thought of not going to the memorial, but she knew she would have to be there. Sirius wanted her there, for one. She could hardly say no when he asked so earnestly.

"Sanna?" Peter said, his voice anxious. She bit her lip hard before asking what he wanted.

He didn't answer, but she heard the distinct and heavy shuffling of something in a wardrobe or a cabinet, and she pulled out her wand, feeling her too-long nails dig into her palm as she hurried across to the cozy double bedroom Peter had been cleaning in. He shrank away, frowning.

"Boggart?" he asked in a squeak.

"Sounds like it," she said, inhaling sharply.

She thought of saying they should leave it until Mad-Eye could take a look, or call in reinforcements (she immediately thought of Remus, who was brilliant with boggarts), but she knew after all her talk about not wanting to be called a coward, she would defeat her own purpose if she shied away. Instead, she rolled up her sleeves and snapped that he should have his wand out before she used a quick Charm to unlock and open the cabinet door that had rattled with such force. She wetted her lips with a heavy tongue and she waited for the crack of a boggart taking form.

"Is that…?" Peter breathed, and she felt her fingertips weaken and tingle. Her throat seemed to close and she almost wobbled to her knees she stared down at the floor.

"Yes," she finally croaked. "Sirius."

There he was, his body broken and bloodied on the floor in front of them. His legs sprang from odd angles. His arms were barely what one could call "connected" to his body. She swallowed back a wave of nausea and she saw blood trickling from his eyes, ears, lips. Fresh blood. The room seemed to spin. It was all she could do to back out of the room, Peter taking her arm and leading her like a weak kitten. When he'd closed and locked the door and led her out to the sofa, she finally took a rattling breath and realized what a fool she'd made of herself.

"I'll tell Remus I found it after you'd left," Peter said softly, his eyes wide and full of understanding. He knew, and she knew, that she would have done the same for him. "He's always told me not to handle them myself. He'll be pleased I remembered and won't ask. Are you alright? Do you want tea?"

She wanted to erase that sight from her mind, but she couldn't, so she told him she'd be fine, just the sudden shock of it, the closeness to all the talk of death and Edgar. She'd be fine.

But three days later, when Remus came around for drinks while Sirius was off on a mission with James, the image still burned in her thoughts, surging whenever she had a lull in her train of thought, whenever she didn't occupy herself sufficiently.

"Sanna, are you alright?" he asked, pouring her a small glass of brandy. She sniffed at it, knowing he had seen something of her thoughts in her eyes and not wanting to admit something had bothered her.

"Just been thinking a lot of consequences," she said softly, accepting the brandy with uncharacteristically supple fingers.

"Edgar."

"Well, yeah, I suppose."

She didn't say that she'd connected that horrible image from the boggart to the threats of Mulciber and Snape, the strange advances Voldemort seemed to make to reach out and grab her. They would do that to him, she knew, in a heartbeat. Any one of them, all three of them, the whole of the Death Eaters at once. It took little imagination to think of how his cousin would treat him, given half a chance, thinking of how Bellatrix and Lucius cursed him shortly before he ran away from home. She thought of how he trembled as he confessed to her everything that happened, everything but what the fight had been about, and he pressed his knees into her skirt as she caressed his hair, trying to hide his tears from her. It wasn't until later, talking to Remus, that she learned the fight had something to do with her, some suggestion that Sanna might "have her uses," and Sirius took it very poorly.

"I worry about him, too," Remus said softly, pouring her a bit more brandy. "All the time, Sanna." He kissed her temple, then blushed at the forwardness, but Sanna placed a hand on his wrist to show she didn't mind. His shoulders relaxed and he said, "Sirius can take care of himself."

"Except when he can't," she whispered back. "Edgar knew how to take care of himself, too."

Remus closed his eyes. She knew a million words of comfort and reassurance danced across his tongue, but he held them in out of respect for her mood. Even when she was cruelly resting her hand on his arm, catching herself drawing absent circles and spirals with her fingertips on the scars lining his skin, Remus was too good to her.

"Remus," she whispered, "if you ever had to choose between doing the right thing and saving someone you loved, someone you couldn't possibly live without…."

His eyes flashed, and she felt her throat tighten, knowing he thought of her, if only for a moment. She hadn't thought before of what the Dark might offer someone like Remus, but she supposed they might throw her in among hollow promises of freedom, acceptance, the true equality of his kind. Lies, of course, and she knew he knew that. But such seductive lies.

"Whatever Mulciber said to you," he said earnestly, "Gideon wouldn't want you to consider his safety in an equation like that."

Her stomach and her face burned as she realized she hadn't thought of Gideon at all when she asked the question, and perhaps it was for that reason. Gideon was practical, sensible, not at all impulsive or irrational. If they tried to make a deal with him or lure him in as bait, they'd fail a million times. Even if they said they had her on her deathbed and she'd only be saved by his turning or coming to die in her place, Gideon would turn to Dumbledore.

Sirius would act and then think, if he ever had a chance to think about it. And in doing so, he might doom them both. And Snape and Bellatrix knew him well enough to know that. Come to that, they knew her well enough to know she was prone to the occasional sin or rash act in his defense.

What a mess she was in.

"You won't leave until he's home?" she asked, shuddering at the smallness in her voice. "I don't want to be alone."

She didn't want to try to fall asleep without Sirius in the house, and she couldn't stand the thought of staying up, staring at the ceiling, amusing herself until Sirius came home looking like Merlin knows what.

Remus hesitated, but he did concede, saying, "I'll stay as long as you like," before he poured her a dash more brandy and kissed her temple again. Sanna relaxed, curling up beside him on the sofa as he read to her from the first book he found on the shelf. She rested her head against his radiatingly warm chest, feeling the rhythm of his words roll across her as the close rhythm of his heartbeat echoed through her body.

She fell asleep against him, and was unaware that Remus tucked her in, conjuring several blankets and one large, perfect pillow. He smoothed the pale hair back from her face and kissed her temple for the third time before he settled in a nearby chair with the book—a Muggle novel Lily had given Sanna for a birthday a few years gone—pretending to read it, flipping through the pages as he listened to the sound of Sanna's breathing and glanced periodically up at her to be certain she was still peaceful.

Almost as soon as the key turned in the lock and Sirius stepped in through the front door, her nose twitched and Sanna muttered Sirius's name. Remus felt his chest tighten, and his eyes met Sirius's as her murmur dissipated into the air. Sirius's eyes were full of pride and guilt and excitement, and Remus hated him for that small moment.

Sanna stirred on the sofa and Remus set the book on the arm of the chair, leaving without a word, stopping only long enough to grab his coat as Sirius tickled the end of Sanna's nose, grinning.

Remus knew he would wake her and tell her all about his mission with James, and that Sanna would likely forget Remus had even been there. The two would curl up on the sofa, or go upstairs to sleep. And Remus would go to his cold, empty flat and fall asleep in his cold, empty bed, and dream of a time when she loved him.

A/N: So, Sirius is a bit of a pest, Sanna's boggart is a dead and dismembered Sirius, and we dip into Remus's head for a moment to watch her sleep and see what Sirius's reactions are when she can't see.

Review Prompt: Which character would be most likely to make a deal with Voldemort to protect someone they love?

Q&A:

Q: Why won't Sanna tell anyone about Mulciber and Snape? (Michand)

A: For the moment, she doesn't want too many people knowing, although they guess more than she says. Sanna has a lot of pride, for one. She would tell Dumbledore, but she doesn't like people to know generally how close she's come to being kidnapped and cursed repeatedly. Particularly, she doesn't want Sirius to know. She'll say it's because he worries too much as it is, but the largest reason is that she's terrified he'll do something impulsive and get himself captured or killed in trying to defend her. That's the threat that hangs over her anyway, and she's forever conscious of it.

Cheers!

C