Chapter 15.
Beth canceled their dinner date the next day. She had called ten minutes before she usually returned home, sounding distressed and disoriented.
"I'm sorry," she'd apologized. "I know we've had this one planned out for a bit, but I'm swamped with this new assignment. I won't be leaving for at least another hour."
He'd said it was fine, urging her to get her work done as quickly as possible. "Maybe we'll be able to go see a film."
They hadn't.
A couple of days later, Dumbledore gave him a new mission. Edinburgh for six days. Six days.
Beth had asked him about his family when he'd gotten back. Mentioned that she knew virtually nothing, wanted to know more, asked if/when she'd be able to meet them.
Her innocent question had kicked him in the stomach. His heart had clenched with pain, and he'd looked down at the floor, unable to meet her gaze.
What if he'd have to go against his brother?
When she repeated herself, he shook his head, clenching his jaw tight.
"My family…"
Hates me.
Despises me.
Wants me dead.
Is fighting against me.
Regulus.
"…is complicated."
She'd kissed his forehead, promising him that he didn't have to tell her about them if he didn't want to. He'd smiled his appreciation, tried to act like his heart hadn't been violently ripped out of him. She'd believed it.
That night he'd drunk his way through an entire bottle of firewhiskey, praying it would help. It took drunkenly owling Remus and watching him scourgify the vomit away to realize that it hadn't.
That night was when the nightmares began.
He'd planned out a big surprise date for them two days later. She'd been coming home at her normal time the past couple of days, and it had sparked a small amount of hope inside of him.
Peter had helped him set everything up. Went with him to buy the groceries. Helped him pick out the music. Taught him how to light candles the muggle way. Lectured him about the importance of fire safety.
Rose petals were scattered on the ground. The only lights on were the flickering candles. James had slapped him on the back with a smile, and left for Lily's for the night.
But Beth came home three hours late.
By the time she'd arrived, the food had been put away. Petals swept up. Candles blown out. Sirius had drunk nearly all of the wine save for the little bit still in his glass. She'd had no idea.
They'd fought. She'd accused him of demanding too much out of this. He'd let all of the anger and torment he'd felt out on her. He'd regretted it immediately.
He'd tried to kiss her before he left, trying to apologize, hoping it would help.
It hadn't.
He'd left for Edinburgh the next day. "Suspected activity," Dumbledore had said.
He'd told Remus to come up with a plausible reason for Beth. Explained that they'd fought the night before. Remus asked him if he had hurt her.
Sirius answered honestly.
Polyjuice potion worked better than he realized.
It was his second day there that he discovered this. He'd gotten into the small pub easily. A group of pureblooded wizards sat a couple of feet away. Most he recognized as the friends his parents would associate with at the suffocating galas he had been forced to go to. In the front sat Abraxas Malfoy, commanding and domineering as ever. His son, thankfully, was nowhere to be seen. Sirius had sat far enough away to not draw suspicion, but close enough to hear. To anyone else, he'd looked old and decrepit, too drunk to even hold his head up.
Only part of it was acting.
He tried to keep his mind focused on the conversation taking place ahead of him. Tried to keep Beth out of his head. Tried to silence his mother's voice telling him to leave their house. Tried to forget the number of times James had to reassure him that he was okay in the middle of the night. Tried to forget about Regulus.
And then his father had walked in.
He'd sat down at the table and greeted the others. A mumbled conversation began, followed quickly by the sound of him laughing loudly—the first time Sirius had ever heard him do so. On instinct, Sirius turned at the noise.
"My apologies," his father had said to him, motioning to those seated at the table. "We're old friends."
It was the kindest he had ever spoken to him.
Yes, polyjuice potion worked better than he realized.
The next several days were spent trailing his father.
Sirius suspected he was only sent so as to test his allegiance to the Order. He didn't dare accuse Dumbledore of doing this in his reports back, though he desperately wanted to. He held back for the hope of being led to his brother.
He never was.
His father was not a death eater, that much he knew for sure. A sympathizer, yes, but not a death eater. He was, however, supplying the organization with money, and spent his time traveling from pureblood to pureblood in an attempt to convince them to do the same. "An investment opportunity," he'd called it.
Every person he met with contributed their funds, save for one. On his last day there, Sirius learned that the man had been killed.
Sirius was chained to a wall. Not by magic, but by steel binds that cut into his skin.
His mother approached him from a far distance, walking slowly until she was face to face with him.
She screamed loudly and long, deafening his ears. It was terrifying, watching his mother look like she wanted to drive him to insanity. He did his best to steel his face, not allowing her to beat him despite his position. When she'd finished, she smirked.
"I never loved you," she taunted.
His father appeared beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "You think you can save him," he laughed. "You can't save your brother. He is everything we wanted you to be."
Regulus was then there, his mask covering his face. In his hand was a steel rod, a blazing hot emblem sitting on top. Sirius recognized the skull and snake immediately.
"You can't save your brother," his father repeated. "But he can save you."
At his mother's nod, Regulus pressed the scalding metal onto Sirius' forearm.
Sirius had shot out of the bed, panting heavily.
His arm was unscathed. His wrists were not bound. The shabby inn was not the dungeon he'd been in moments earlier.
He'd sighed, falling onto his back. Sleep was evading him.
When he'd returned, Beth welcomed him back eagerly, much to his delight. She'd apologized immediately for the hurtful things she'd said during their fight. He'd apologized for everything else.
They'd ordered takeaway and snogged on the couch for what felt like hours. After days of being by himself, the comforting presence of his beautiful Beth was almost overwhelming. She'd filled him in on her and Remus' attempt to teach James how to waltz. He'd told her the funny bits of his trip to Edinburgh. They'd laughed, they'd smiled, and they'd kissed, again and again and again.
She'd fallen asleep curled to his side on the couch. He'd hoped this would keep the nightmares at bay. Instead, he saw her chained to the wall.
So he'd stayed awake through the night, watching over her and gently cascading his fingers through her curls.
He couldn't lose her.
When she woke up, he'd told her he was going to take her to the art museum later that day. She'd smiled wide, declaring that she couldn't wait.
Eight hours later, her work got in the way.
Two weeks after the visit to the zoo, Sirius knocked on Lily's door.
"You're not in love with me, are you?" she'd asked at his sudden intrusion.
"You're marrying my best friend in a month, why is that your automatic first question?"
He'd told her everything about that day. How it'd started out non-threatening, how they had been laughing and joking, how happy they'd been. How the death eater had emerged from nowhere, how they'd battled, how he'd won. How he'd obliviated him, apparated away, and in turn obliviated Beth.
During his story, she'd only asked two questions.
"Is she okay?"
"Are you okay?"
He'd nearly broken down at her second question. She'd noticed his change in demeanor and did nothing to force it to light. Instead, she'd made a pot of coffee and brought him food, ashamed at him when he said that he hadn't eaten in over twenty-four hours.
"If you die, who am I going to pass James off to?"
He'd told her about his mission as she'd packed for her own. The food and coffee had helped him steel his nerves together, and he recounted everything: the growing support, the new names, what little of the plans he'd heard. She'd nodded along as he warned her of what he had learned, thanking him for the advice.
Then the conversation had turned to Beth.
Lily agreed that she seemed to be working longer than any of them thought she'd be. She'd agreed that it was unfair to him for so many plans to be ruined by her work. "But this is what you signed up for," she'd reminded him. "You can't get mad at her for doing her job."
"It's unpaid," he mumbled, picking at a thread in her pillow. "It's not a job."
"Neither are these missions. But you consider them a job, don't you?"
He couldn't get mad at her for having a life of her own, Lily had said. He had to be patient. He had to let her live her blissfully unaware life.
"It's not like you're going to have much time left with her anyway. She's leaving soon. Be thankful for what you have."
Three days later, Beth cancelled again. He tried not to fight with her.
Apparently, he didn't try hard enough.
Four days later: "An F3 tornado ransacked a small suburb outside of Manchester."
Roughly translated to: "A group of death eaters destroyed a small muggle town, killing eight and injuring thirty."
Beth finally made it to a planned night with Sirius two days after the attack.
He'd taken her to a swing dance club, hoping that her smile would distract him from the attack he was trying so hard to ignore. So they'd spun in circles, kicked their feet up, and tried to master the crazy dips and turns the professionals were doing.
They'd had a ball in the beginning. She'd kissed him after every dance, thanking him for such a fun date. He'd kissed her back and drag her back out to the floor, momentarily forgetting the turmoil that was going on in his life.
But then he saw a friend of Rodolphus Lestrange enter the building.
He'd turned his back to the door. "I want to leave," he'd told Beth.
She'd stared at him incredulously. "Why?"
A reason, any reason. "I don't feel well."
She'd scoffed. "We've been trying to go out for weeks now. I'm finally off a night and you want to go home?"
"Well it's not necessarily my fault that this is the first night we've been able to go out, is it?"
She'd glared at him.
He had to leave. He didn't care.
"I want to stay," she'd protested.
The man was working his way over to the bar. If they were going to leave, this would be the best time. Sirius grabbed her hand and roughly tugged her away. "We're leaving."
They'd fought the entire way home.
He had to keep her safe. He didn't care.
A/N: Hi everyone! Sorry it took me forever to update, but I promise, I have not forgotten this story. In fact, over the past several weeks, I've been reworking it to get a better idea of what I want to happen. My amazing beta, nimblescrivener, has worked relentlessly with me over it, and let me tell you, what we have planned is an angst fest. However, it allows the story to flow a lot smoother, and I think you guys are going to be happy with the end result. Don't give up on me!
Thank you to all of the people asking me to update, it really helped get my butt into gear. I appreciate each and every one of you!
The next chapter follows my regular format, but this chapter needed to be blocked out like this for storyline reasons. What'd you all think of Sirius seeing his father?
Up next, well, just have tissues ready.