Chapter Thirty-Two
Home Sweet Home
It is fall now, time seems to pass all to quickly and Maxima feels as if she is running out of borrowed time. Every day that passes Sirius observes her getting colder, angrier and harder to reach.
He spends a lot of time remembering the beginning, what she was like when he first met her, if this coldness, this anger would pass. He really hoped so. He hoped that in his desperation to ensure his past he hadn't condemned her future.
Hermione had taken to teaching herself combat, a pair of blades found in the attic now her weapons of choice. She was terrible, a flurry of blades and screaming, but it was her way of dealing with the anger. At least when she was training she wasn't arguing with him. She wanted to try to turn again and again and he, uncharacteristically cautioned patience and waiting. The world had really gone bonkers if he was the voice of reason.
It is a particular brisk fall morning, maxima just finishing her morning run, that the two occupants receive a package, and fear runs deep within their veins.
"Package! sign for Mr. Black" calls the delivery boy at the door. The two rush forwards wands tightly in grip, but neither finds excuse to use them..
"Are you Ser-eu-us Black" the boy drawls out, bored. Sirius, despite cringing at the pronunciation, nods, finding no immediate threats.
It is rainy, but not something uncommon in England, and Maxima secretly enjoys the
smooth touch as rain touches her skin. She is seldom permitted to be outside of the house, with the exception of the backyard, is relishes in the opportunity.
Sirius signs for the package swiftly. The boy looks distracted, his eyes a vacant stare as he stumbles on the stairs.
" This is a warning" the boy speaks in an eerie voice, one that doesn't seem to belong to him but she cannot place. "The dark lord hasn't forgotten you." Sirius moves forward to ask questions, to threaten for answers but he is too late. The boy takes a step back into traffic.
He is dead in seconds.
Silenced by shock, Sirius brings the box into the war room. Whatever the boy had died to deliver must have been important. Whatever warning he had to bring.
Unlike Sirius' weariness of the parcel, Maxima it rips open eagerly but just as quick drops the object. She looks green. The rotted, decapitated head of Albus Dumbledore rolls from the table to the ground.
Maxima shrieks, the sound is young and terrified. It is a reminder that she still can be jostled. Sirius sends out a string of expletives, each as colorful as the next. He had hoped that the headmaster had been hiding, had escaped. He had been a fool to have such hope.
Bile builds up in Sirius' mouth but he swallows the retched taste down. "please, tea, before we have to deal with-" Maxima pales jerking her shaking hand in the direction of the head. Sirius agrees, he'd need a strong cup or two to even fathom dealing with this deal with this.
He had gotten accustomed to a life void of luxury, of reading and worring but danger had felt so very far away until that morning.
After the tea, the two burry the head of their former headmaster in the backyard. It seemed like they, former students, felt some sort of obligation to pay their respects in such a way.
"Do you think he would mind that his final place is here, do you think he would've liked it?" Maxim asks after the last shovel of dirt has been place. She had been so silent during the entire affair that he is surprised to hear her voice. Rain trickles down her face, her dark hair matting against her skin with the moisture.
"I honestly don't know what he liked" it felt like the wrong thing to say but it was the truth. He didn't have it in him to her right now.
"snapping Sherberts, licking lemons. A sturdy dragon hide boot. and men with good smiles" she spoke quiet, yet confidently. She had known him, kept his secrets, meet with him and exchanged letters.
Sirius nodded unsurprised by the sweets. "wait, men?" he asked his voice laced with shock.
"Dumbledore was-"he hesitated scowling when maxima laughed at his discomfort.
"-gay" she finished for him "surely you didn't think a man like Albus Dumbledore dated women?"
Sirius shrugged, remained silent, having never given much thought to the headmasters... preferences.
As they were leaving Maxima stood over the mound a last time, a dark look overcasting her features, "fuck you for what you did to me. I deserved more than to be your mercenary" she spoke and spit at his grave. Sirius turns away, this seemed like a private moment.
Maxima thought to every time he had wiped her memory and she had woken with blood caked to her fingernails not even knowing who she had killed. She thought to ever lie she had been forced to tell and secret she had to keep.
"I was just a girl" she spoke her voice cracking "and you made me into a killer". He had stolen her youth, and if nothing more she would spends no more time with him or thoughts of him. "Goodbye Headmaster" she offered, at last leaving the site.
The two sat in front of a fire, sitting on a chesterfield in silence for hours before she spoke.
"I'm going to parents house-today" she declared glancing at him as she stated her intentions.
"In case you want to come" her voice falters, vulnerable. "I don't know if I can do it, please just-" she shakes.
"I'll come but we wait they'll be expecting us to do this today. They'll be waiting" He responds softly.
"Let them" she says, a violent gleam in her eye. She wanted to slaughter them, wanted them to suffer for what they had done. To her in those dark dungeon chambers and to them all. The scars on her body ached for retribution.
"Wait. A. Day" Sirius commands and his tone boils her blood. She would not be commanded, told what to do and expected to heel like a dog.
"I'm going" she spits out at him, her hands tightened in fists.
"No, you're gonna get yourself killed" his jaw tightens, his gaze steeling upon her. Stupid, stubborn witch.
"I'm running out of time." She spoke, glaring at him. She didn't want to do this, but it had to be done and she was done hiding in this place. Done with cowardice.
" How." He replies curtly, cocking an eyebrow, readying for an explanation, not expecting anything substantial.
"Professor Lupin said I travel on my birthday, the next full moon" she looks at him daring him to contradict. The next moon was but days away.
He barks a laugh, dark and bitter; "oh Professor Lupin said did he" he narrows his eyes. She was ignorant, didn't not know how much the deatheaters wanted to spill her blood, was ignorant of the target she had placed upon herself the minute her face was revealed to Voldemort.
"For fucks sake, Lupin didn't know everything. YOU didn't tell us everything. You left us in the bloody dark max" he curses, and she can feel the anger, and betrayal in her bones. As if it is her anger, she feels the emotion course through her.
She wonders who he sees when he looks at her. Her identity feels murky and mailable as time.
"I'm not her" she says, quietly. She hasn't hurt him. She wants him to remember the difference between the two women who wore the same face.
"Not yet"
He replies and wonders not for the first time if there was any chance at changing history or if it was destined to repeat.