The Reader

Disclaimer: JKR is a much better writer. And I don't own the Wizard of Oz, Battlestar Galactica, Sunshine, The Lord of the Rings, or anything else I may reference. (This list is gonna get seriously long if I have to keep mentioning every one.)

Rating: T until further notice.

Summary: See prologue.

Chapter 35: For Things We've Done And Things We've Left Undone

We did not have sex that night.

How unromantic, I know. Honestly, though, when your ribs are indistinguishable from each other, you can have someone crawl on top of you and tell me how you like it.

I did, however, find myself sleeping in the same bed with him again. This time, I knew that wasn't going to change.

He was still sleeping when I woke, and as I lay there looking at him, it all started to wash over me, the utter impossibility of what I'd done.

I'd saved him. I'd changed things. I latched on hard and refused to let go.

But what if I was wrong? What if he was supposed to die, or, worse still, I'd taken something from him by not letting him pass on?

I studied him as he slept, his face so pale, so wasted despite its better keeping over the past year. He was a shadow of the man I had once known. Wouldn't the greater blessing have been to let him move past it all?

He could have seen James again.

My body, alive in both pain and passion, turned cold at this thought. I missed James too. It was an ache I kept repressed, but, here, swimming in my guilt, I felt it return full force.

Damned if I do, damned if I don't.

I crawled out of bed, cautiously, so as not to wake him. I tiptoed downstairs to the bathroom closest to my own room, then took care of my morning routine down there.

It felt good to shower, to wash the last of the blood and grime away. It was something I probably should have taken care of the night before, but, uh, I had been distracted.

My side was still in a considerable amount of pain. It rose up sharper the more I moved, and my breathing was ragged with it. But I forced myself to ignore it, having greater things to worry about. I had to re-wrap the bandages myself, and they looked sort of bulky under my thin shirt.

The hallway was still quiet when I stepped out into it. My room was only one floor below Sirius', and I could hear clearly the patter of rain high up on the roof.

I descended the long stairs and took down the wards on the front door. Once outside, I stood on the front stoop. People passed, back and forth, going about their daily affairs, but they didn't notice me. I was invisible, still wrapped in the effects of the Fidelius Charm. I could see all, but was still alone.

I tilted my head back to let the rain fall freely on my face. It tapped on my skin, leaving little spots of sensory life where it landed. Maybe if I stood there long enough, it would wash my guilt away, would set me free.

There was a creak behind me, and I turned my head to see Sirius standing there, watching me. There was a soft smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He reached out and took me by the hand, hauling me back in.

He led me back up the stairs, to the drawing room. Then he settled me on the couch and sat beside me.

"What's wrong?" he asked without prelude.

How did he always know? I couldn't hide anything from the man. Except for the things I actually needed to tell him. And then only until last night.

My fingers pulled idly at a loose thread on the couch.

"It's nothing," I said.

The smile died from his lips. "Come on, Kara," he said. "No more secrets. I thought we were past all that?"

How do you tell someone you're wondering if it would have been best if they had died?

"Kara." His gaze was intent now. I wasn't getting out of this.

I sighed. "What if...what if I messed things up? Changed something that wasn't supposed to be changed? I mean...don't get me wrong, I'm glad you're alive, more than I could ever tell you, but...Well, what if I took something from you?"

"What do you mean?" Sirius asked quietly.

"Peace," I said. "You wouldn't have had to worry about all this anymore, and...and you would have seen James again."

Old pain flashed across his face, and he was silent for a good while. Finally, he spoke again, thoughtfully.

"You may be right," he said.

Figures. Serves me right for screwing with J.K. Rowling.

"Although," he continued, "I think I would very much have regretted missing out on this." Once again he took my face in his hands and pressed his lips to my own, softly at first, warmly.

Sirius was an expert at this, no joke. I was completely helpless when he touched me. In fact, his kisses did what the rain could not and washed my worry away.

He broke it off, moving just far enough back so that he could see me. My breath was coming out in well-defined gasps.

"Kara," he said. "I prefer to think you don't regret what you did last night."

"I don't!" I said hurriedly. "I was just worried...about you."

"Don't," he said. "I rather like being alive, although, I do admit, there were times..."

This I understood all too well.

"But I want to be here for Harry," he said firmly. "And you."

I smiled at this.

"Can you tell me anything more?" Sirius asked suddenly, curiously. "Is the charm broken?"

I opened my mouth to tell him something insignificant. It wouldn't hurt to start there. I was going to tell him about Harry and Ginny. But my mouth froze as though molded that way.

"Damn it!" I said angrily. I looked at him apologetically. "I'm sorry, no. It's not gone. I think it was just for that one time."

"Okay," Sirius said, disappointed.

But what about what would have happened after the Department of Mysteries? Could I tell him what would have been if he had died?

"But maybe..." I gave it a shot. "You know, Harry would have blamed himself."

Okay. So this I could do.

Sirius' forehead knitted together. "I got that last night, but you mean if...?"

I nodded. "It was all pretty much supposed to happen the way it did last night, with Bellatrix and the Cruciatus Curse and all that, only he would have been out for revenge...And then, well, he would have gotten into a huge argument with Dumbledore, about you and the prophecy and all that. I'm assuming some of that happened last night."

"It did," said Sirius. "But without the argument bit. He's really scared."

"You should talk to him," I said. "He needs you. He would've spent next month lying on his back in his room, staring at the ceiling."

Sirius sighed, sinking down into the couch, his head resting on the back. "I never had any idea..."

"What? That he loved you so much?"

He looked at me out of the corner of his eye.

"Sirius," I said, shaking my head. "How could you not know?"

He was quiet again before answering. "The only person who ever said they loved me was James."

"I figured," I said.

"Well, and then you," he said. He grinned. "Although you never actually said it."

"Doesn't make it not true," I said.

It was my turn to initiate. I approached him warily, still testing the boundaries of this new aspect of our relationship. My fingers slid into his hair as I kissed him. His hand came up to the back of my head, pulling me closer. He was always pulling me closer, as though we could never be close enough. I was more hesitating, more unsure, but he was firm and confident, and it gave me courage.

When we broke apart, he was panting slightly, and I was once again trying to ignore the rush of agony to my side.

"Anything else you want to tell me?" he asked.

I bit my lip. This might hurt him, but I really thought he needed to know. "You might also want to tell him you're not angry with him for not being James."

His head shot up. "What?"

"When you said he was less like James than you thought, when you talked to him in the common room fire?" I explained. He nodded, his eyes round, to show he knew what I was talking about. "Well, he took that to heart."

Sirius groaned, letting his head fall back again. "Did he tell you that?"

"No," I admitted. "But I usually have a pretty good idea what's going on in his head."

He looked at me strangely. "You're not going to be able to explain that either, are you?"

I shook my head sadly. There was no way he could ever understand this, and I began to wonder if it wouldn't come between us in the end.

He laughed, startling me. "We're a pair, aren't we? We practically ruin everything we touch, just by being who we are."

I would have been offended if it hadn't been so true.

He suddenly seized my face, forcing me to look at him. "I need you to understand that I will never hold that against you again. I'm sorry for what I said last night. It was thoughtless and cruel. I didn't– I can't grasp what you've been through all these years."

When he kissed me, it almost healed those wounds, mended those scars. Scars have never been important to me. I've never considered them a blight or a blemish. They're just marks, details. They tell a story. The more you have, the more you've been through. Scars are a testament to your ability to endure.

But when Sirius kissed me, when I didn't lose control but gave it over, those pieces of me that had been cruelly ripped out were restored, or rather replaced with something better.

I don't believe in fairy tales. I don't believe in happy endings. But I do believe that sometimes things are right, and no matter how much you have to work at them, they can be inexpressibly worth having.

My body was complaining again, and I pulled out of the kiss to press a shaking hand to my ribs.

"We need to get you to Madame Pomfrey," said Sirius. "Or maybe Saint Mungos."

I shook my head. "Madame Pomfrey. You wouldn't make it two steps in St. Mungos. We don't know if they've put out the word about your innocence yet."

"Hogwarts it is," Sirius said, moving me off of him so he could stand up. I got up as well, and together we walked back out into the real world