Chapter Thirty- If All Else Fails
Hello, my kind readers, thank you all for continuing along this journey into part two, I promise some excitement and fast updates are in store. Cheers.
There is a constant chill that envelops the house as if the house was a conscious being and could feel the emptiness, feel the loss. Sirius drinks away his sorrow, so lost in his own grief that it takes him weeks to arise from his melancholic slumber. He feels the bite of bitterness that she will leave and return to find all those he had lost alive and well in the past. It takes time for him to be reminded that she had felt such loss too, and she needed his help for the long journey she still had to endure.
He throws out every bottle of whiskey in a single morning, determined to bring himself back to the present. James, Remus, Lily, Harry and all those he lost would turn in their graves if they could see him now. Without the numb of alcohol, he hears every sound as the gunshot enters lupins head. Again and again. The sound so loud he retches, he is embarrassed by the weakness and he prays Maxima doesn't hear, doesn't notice.
On a bright Tuesday morning, he enters the green war room, covered in failed battle plans, and fatality reports and steps in with purpose. Looking at the parchment tacked to the walls, and covering the table; he tears it all down- every report, every reminder of failure.
He incinerates the bloody muggleborn escape plans- watching it burn until the parchment is nothing but ash. Somehow that destruction brings air to his lungs, gives him room to begin anew.
Meticulously, in a fashion that is unlike himself, he puts up a timeline, beginning that fatal Halloween night to the present, with only two known non-death eater survivors in England. He places the new parchment on the walls of the room, not a war plan, not a battle plan but something both new and old. He hopes the world is still larger than this one country and he- they, can find aid outside. He hopes the world has not abandoned them to that monster, but Sirius is not in the business of hope.
He spends hours plotting in points in the timeline, points that hurt to think about, points that Maxima, that Hermione, would hate to see. He places the night of her very first mission, the one that blinded her. It was important, even if he still had nightmares of it.
When he is finished, inscribed each success and failure upon the walls, he labels the timeline. In neat print he writes 'the time we royally fucked shite up', he thinks it is well suited, but Maxima, upon seeing it, scowls at the title.
"Glad you sobered up, we have work to do" is all she says before adding in her own points; people she had killed, and things that he hadn't been aware of. He glanced at the time tuner that hung gracefully from a gold chain, when she left he would be truly alone. The thought terrified him. If she were successful, he, this him, would cease to exist.
She was different in this time, having the appearance of maxima but with none of the kindness, not of the fire or fight. She was cold, and it was this cold determinism that had her doing more research, and brewing more potions even after failed attempts to use the time turner. Something was anchoring her to this time, and they couldn't stop until she was brought back, they had to try again.
He watches her work often, standing just behind the doorframe to the lab. He watches her push up the bridge safety goggles she always insisted on wearing. She was a hybrid, muggle-born and pure-blood swirling in her timeline at varied consistencies.
Sirius smiles at her stepping into the space and wishes he was here for anything other than to deliver the news he had. His reading had finally come to use, it was likely her home, her childhood home that had grounded her in their past attempts.
"Maxima," he says her name but she doesn't look up, she continues crushing a warkspurt beetle with the flat side of her knife. A steeled kind of focus he only saw in potion making and when she crafted new spells.
"Maxima," he says again, startled she looks at him, clutching her knife tightly. She had come a long way from the girl he had hidden with lupin in his home, she was dangerous now, and if she did make it back, Merlin have mercy on his youthful self.
Her hair kept in place by a long blade and he is tempted by the dark curl that had escaped- to tuck it behind her ear. He hasn't had the nerve to ask if that first time had been all grief or if she regretted it.
She finished placing the beetles in the cauldron and placed it away to cool. "Potion mistress looks good on you" he started grateful for the smile he sent him in return. "I think better brewing than any other time," she says, a wry smile gracing her features. She casts a long look in the direction of the desk in the room- Severus desk. Sirius knew better than to say anything.
He glanced at the instructions to the potion she is brewing. The words 'world destroyer' titled the parchment. His breath caught in his throat.
"World destroyer?" he asked trying to sound more bemused than nervous. Maxima glanced up in a panic, her hands moving to remove the parchment from his sight.
"it's a precaution" she speaks rushed "it's in case we can't find another solution". She stirs the potion, once, twice then lifts her gaze to meet his.
He looks at her for a long moment, her blue eyes are bright and sweat beats on her brow from being in the lab for hours. She is terrified, under all the armour, she was terrified.
"What does it do," Sirius asks. He knows the answer, he just needs her to say it. He needs to hear it.
"It's really complicated arithmetic, only conceptual really, professor snape figures out the potion parts and I managed to calculate the arithmetic" she faltered looking at him for a breath.
"It will destroy everything, stop time at this moment, there will be no future, this timeline destroyed, everything…" she looks at him, her heart thudding, unable to say the rest. Incapable of voicing the destruction she stirred into a smooth mixture.
"-everything including me" he finishes her sentence, his voice gravely and raw. She nods in response, and despite himself, his heart clatters at the thought of his entire existence wiped clean.
A long silence followed until,
"Come, let grab a cuppa," he says and she, after a last glance at the brewing potion follows him to the kitchen.
He still has his piece to say, to tell her that they needed to set her home, her parents' home alight. She is beautiful, dark and dangerous but beautiful, she is thin again, a result of the lack of food they had. Magic could do a lot but could not transfigure edible food out of nothing. Every trip that was taken out of Grimmauld place was a risk, and not one to be taken lightly.
"Out with it", she commands after he spends too long staring into his tea not knowing how to approach the sentence, to tell her his news.
She shifts forward unaware of the way her shirt moves to expose her cleavage. He is trying to think about everything but the smoothness of her lips and the way her shirt now dipped low enough for her breasts to push against the fabric. He wants to touch her; the distance feels painful. He shuffles in his seat, his pants suddenly tight.
"Sirius," she asks oblivious to his discomfort, curious when he doesn't respond
He coughs regaining focus "I've been doing reading" she nods "if you're to turn back, there needs to be no presence you ever existed, that means" he swallowed looking at her eyes "my parents' house" she finished for him.
"I'm sorry-" she says, her blue eyes sinking into his gaze.
She wanted to tell him so much. Thank him for saving her life. She wanted to touch him beyond the comforting graze of his fingers on her hand. The heat of that night still lay imprinted on her bones. For a moment it is almost as if she can see his desire. She graces her teeth across her lip. She does not say anything when his grip on the table noticeably tightens.
"Max-" he begins, and the kettle starts screaming. She gets up to move the kettle and when she turns back to the table he is gone leaving her alone with two cups of tea.