Chapter Eight (Misha)

Misha slammed her bedroom door so hard that a painting (a botanical study of a Papaver somniferum) popped of the wall, knocking an antique clock off the mantel. "Well, fuck," she muttered through her tears. With a wave of her wand, she righted the picture and repaired the broken fame. The clock, however, she reached for herself, hefting the weight of the deep, green marble in her hand before replacing it on the mantel. "It's 8:43PM," the clock informed her helpfully.

"Thanks," sniffled Misha.

"And if you don't mind my saying so, he was only trying to protect himself. Afraid he'd loose you to a younger man, I'm sure."

Misha just glared at meddlesome timepiece and continued to cry. "It was a breach of trust!" she insisted, but the clock only ticked patronizingly and then gave a small chime. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" snapped Misha.

"It means it's a quarter till the hour," replied the clock smugly.

But Misha was not satisfied. She felt hurt, she felt angry, and she felt betrayed. Sirius claimed he loved her, but then he turned around and behaved like an utter prat. Why the hell didn't he just tell her Chet had called and allow her to deflect the visit politely? Merlin, she was furious. He'd acted like a child - like an immature, screwed-up little shit. And Chet was just was bad. Worse, actually, now that she thought about it. He was the one that called her a freak. He was the one from whom she had to hide. But then, again, none of this would have happened were it not for Sirius' deception.

Since leaving Hogwarts, Misha had mostly dated Muggles. Immersing herself in her mother's world of celebrity and fashion and her father's world of music and politics, she'd managed to pretty much avoid large chunks of Wizarding society altogether. Frankly, many Wizards her drove her mental with their petty squabbles and stubborn adherence to foolish beliefs. Pureblood, Half-Blood, Muggle-born. What the hell did it matter? Once more, many magical folk had no clue about Muggle society, considering almost everything non-Wizard related to be patently inferior. There was such great beauty in the Muggle world, too. There was Mahler and Bach and Beethoven. There was Chagall and Picasso. There was Annie Leibovitz, James Joyce, Pablo Neruda, and the 1953 Porsche Roadster in candy-apple red. The Muggle world was full of adventure and fantastic things to discover.

Yet they would never fully accept her. She still lived in fear that someday, someone - the wrong person - would fully discover her secret and out her for the freak she was. Misha dreaded that day, but she knew it was coming. Someday, her Memory Modification Charms would fail – or she'd make a mistake – and then it would be all over. No, what Misha needed was a good Wizard who accepted the Muggle world. Who loved Muggle things like Pink Floyd and motorbikes and a good curry and… Shit. That would be Sirius, wouldn't it?

Misha burst into a fresh round of exhausted tears.

By 9:15 PM Misha was done crying.

By 9:22PM she was feeling deeply regretful about the way she'd treated him.

By 9:31PM she was ready to come out and apologize.

Unfortunately, by 9:32PM she was fast asleep.

Misha dreamed of millions of sea gulls diving upon a small, blue fishing boat on a cloudy day. She dreamed of waking-up and finding Sirius gone. She dreamed that her left-eye had suddenly turned a vibrant, green and that Winter was the only one who noticed. She dreamed of running through the forest, looking for Sirius only to find his battered, broken body at the foot of a small cliff. And she dreamed about eating banana-cream pie.

When she awoke she was uneasy and dehydrated. She missed having Sirius by her side, for they fit together so nicely, warm and snug. In his arms, she felt safe and, even better, she knew that he did, too. But where was he? Had be gone back to his own room? Worse, could he have left the house?

Silently, Misha crept across the room and opened her bedroom door. She glanced worriedly up and down the hallway. Nothing. All was dark and silent. Deciding that he must be in his own bedroom, Misha stepped into the hallway and the world fell into chaos. First, there was the slide of warm fur beneath her bare toes, followed by a sharp, yelp of canine pain. Next, she was tumbling forward, her fall broken by an abrupt encounter between her forehead and the railing at the top of the stairs. And then the world went black.

Suddenly Sirius was hovering over her, wide-eyed and terrified, his wand clutched tightly in his right hand. He swam before her eyes, breaking into multiple Sirius' before reforming into one. Misha blinked in confusion at the sudden pain that rose from the rising bump on her forehead. "I had to Rennervate you," Sirius said by way of greeting.

Feeling as if she were about to pass out again, Misha said nothing, but merely whimpered in pain. Sirius leaned forward and kissed her lightly on top of the head. "Episky," he whispered. And the pain was gone.

"Oh, Sirius, I'm… I'm so sorry," Misha stammered, but Sirius merely smiled.

"I'm sorry, too," he replied. "I never meant to interfere and I shouldn't have been so jealous but…"

She silenced him with a kiss. "Shhh, love, you did nothing wrong," she murmured into his mouth. And it was true. She meant it. Her head was still spinning, but her resolve remained undimmed. Forcing herself to stand, she pulled Sirius to his feet. "Let's go to bed," she said softly.

Sirius followed willingly and wordlessly, seeming almost surprised at her insistent kisses. Their bodies melted together as they collapsed on the bed. "Misha, I never meant to hurt you. Can I make it up to you? Can I…"

"Shhh… Don't talk, love. Don't think. Just be."

And, for a moment, the world was reduced to nothing but Sirius Black, the sweet, spicy odor of his skin, and the velvety fierceness of his kisses. She flipped him on his back, trailing a line of small, soft kisses across his jawbone and sucking gently on the delicate hollow of his throat. He moaned and wriggled beneath her as she dragged her tongue across his thin chest, tracing the outline of his largest tattoo before nibbling on a nipple. Sirius bucked and whined, but Misha continued her exploration of his body, circling his belly button with her tongue before pulling down his cotton briefs and taking his hardness into her mouth. Truth be told, Misha usually felt quite uncomfortable doing these sorts of things, but Sirius' groans of ecstasy were driving her wild. This was bliss. He arched his back off the bed, bucking frantically into her mouth, but Misha continued her ministrations undaunted. Seventy seconds later he came.

After, she lay atop him for a moment, breathing deeply as he panted beneath her. Sirius looked at her questioningly. "Can I…" he began.

"No, need love," she responded, kissing him softly on the lips. She gazed at him in the half-light of the darkened bedroom. Damn, but he was beautiful, dark hair fanning out onto the white linen pillowcase, cheeks flushed with pleasure, grey eyes shining in the darkness. Misha knew she was falling and she was falling hard. She opened her mouth to tell him, but he was already speaking.

"Damn," he laughed. "If that's your way of dealing with it, I should piss you off more often."

The moment lost, she simply giggled and tapped him playfully on the nose with the tip of her index finger. "Don't push your luck, mate," she said playfully. "Even I have my limits."

"James used to say that."

The temperature of the room seemed to drop several degrees with that comment and Misha snuggled closer only to see a mournful, far-away look in Sirius' eyes. "Oh, love," she whispered, planning a small kiss on his cheek.

But Sirius kept talking. "James was always so patient with me. He was my best friend. He trusted me and then…" To her horror, Sirius began to sob. "And do you know the worst part?" he asked her.

Not sure she really wanted to hear the answer, she nodded dumbly.

"He never knew! He never knew that I didn't mean to betray him! He died thinking that I wasn't loyal!"

"Oh, what utter bullshit, Padfoot!" cried a deep, male voice in the back of Misha's head.

Sirius sat up, pushing her off him and gazing at her in horror. "Excuse me?" he spat. "What the hell did you just say to me?"

"I said nothing," answered Misha truthfully.

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Pads, pull your head out of your arse and stop whining," came the voice.

"What the fuck is this nonsense?" Misha asked herself.

Sirius glared at her. Misha leapt off the bed and straightened the wrinkled Muggle sundress she'd been wearing all day. She looked frantically around the room for the source of the voice, but found nothing.

"Come off it, you're my best friend and my brother in all-but-blood, but you always were a bit obtuse and self-centered."

Misha shivered. "Did you just hear that?" she asked tentatively.

"Of course, I heard it, girl. You said it," growled Sirius.

"What? No I didn't?" Misha was quite taken aback at the accusation. Obviously, she had not said it. She was fully aware of what did and did not come out of her mouth.

"Actually, my dear, you did," interrupted the mantel clock, "though if I might proffer an opinion, I would suggest that maybe…"

"SHUT UP!!!" roared Misha and Sirius simultaneously.

Undaunted, the clock continued, "Considering the identity of Misha's great-great-great aunt, have either of you considered that, perhaps, it might be James trying to contact you?"

"Well, of course, it is James," came the voice. "Lily says that I should apologize to Misha for the unintentional use of her body. Sorry, Misha. I swear your Aunt Cassandra told me it was perfectly acceptable and you wouldn't mind a bit."

Misha looked warily at Sirius who gazed at her in shock. She assumed he was thinking the exact same thing.

The voice laughed as if reading their thoughts. "Don't worry Pads. THAT wasn't me. Merlin knows I wouldn't have put that thing in my mouth dead or alive or…"

"Erm, yeah…" broke in Misha, greatly relieved that the undead James Potter – if that's who he really was – had not shared in their lovemaking experience. "But, it should be noted for the record that I am not, in any way shape of form, psychic. I mean, despite being distantly related to Cassandra Trelawney, I don't have an 'inner eye' and am quite unaccustomed to people just invading my body without provocation." She wasn't angry, exactly, just a bit taken aback by the proceedings.

"Yeah, Lily said you'd be upset, but your relatives assured me that, since this was for a good cause, you'd be happy to be a conduit."

A conduit? Happy? Was she? Misha had no response.

But Sirius was much more savvy. "How do I know this is really James Potter?" he asked, eyes narrowed. He glanced uneasily at Misha as if she might, without warning, turn into the image of his deceased friend.

Again the voice laughed. "You have a small scar on the inside of your left heel from the time you cut yourself running barefoot through the secret passageway behind the statue of the Hump-backed Witch. Remember that? You and Remus were doing Merlin-knows what in an abandoned broom closet when Filch caught you and you took off running and…"

Sirius lips twitched into a sort of wistful, nostalgic smile that Misha had never seen. "Yeah, I wedged my foot on the base of the statue whilst pushing Remus to safety, our shoes were still back in the closet with…

"Circe's tits, don't even remind me of the first time I caught you two in a broom closet. Remember the big one on the second floor where…"

A barking laugh echoed through Misha's bedroom. "Oh, bloody hell, the look on your face was priceless and…"

"EXCUSE ME!!" burst in Misha. She didn't want to be rude, but this was getting a bit out of hand. She loved Remus. He was a great friend, but Sirius was even more than that and this was not the sort-of thing about which one wanted to hear details. Besides, the voices inside her head were starting to make her mildly dizzy. "I mean, I AM here, you know," she added.

Sirius reached out and took her hand, bringing it up to lips for a quick kiss.

"Erm, yeah, sorry about that. Even Lily says I tend to ramble, " continued the voice of James Potter. "Honestly, does this make you uncomfortable?"

Misha considered the statement. "Well," she said honestly, "it does make me feel a bit like third wheel."

"Huh? Third wheel? Like a tricycle?" asked James with confusion. "I thought cars had four wheels and bikes had two?"

Misha sighed. "It makes me feel unnecessary," she explained. "Like I should leave you two alone. Besides, honestly, I find that having you inside my head is a tad nauseating. Is there another way we could continue this conversation?"

"Well, there is Possession," suggested James, gently.

"POSSESSION?" cried Sirius, looking alarmed. "Sounds rather dodgy and dangerous." He gave Misha's hand a squeeze and looked at her worriedly.

"Oh, it's quite safe, I assure you. People do it all the time. Well, I've never done it before, but you know me, I'm exceptional at everything."

Despite themselves, both Misha and Sirius giggled at this, but Sirius soon regained his composure. "Full of yourself as always. But how does it work?" he asked warily.

"Oh, done painlessly and with ease. I just use your body, Misha, and you…"

"I what?" Misha was not at all sure she liked the sound of that. She glanced up at Sirius who was still gripping her hand tightly.

"You go where I am…was.. we switch places," continued the disembodied James.

"Were is that, exactly?" Misha inquired.

"To the Land of the Dead. But don't worry, it's not scary. Lily would love to have you round for tea. She even made biscuits."

Misha fell silent, allowing the implications of this to sink in. Most people, Wizard and Muggle alike, would give a small fortune to know what happens after death. It was the crux of all of the world's great religions, was it not? Truthfully, however, Misha had very little interest in that sort of esoteric knowledge, figuring that it was better simply to live one's life to the fullest, being mindful of others and caring for all beings. That said, Sirius might just need this very much. Talking to James one on one might just give him the closure he so needed.

She glanced up to see him staring at her, brow creased with worry. "I don't know about this, Misha," he began. "It sounds rather dangerous. What if something happens? I mean, you're far too important to me, love, and…

"I'll do it," she said firmly.

To be continued. Reviews are much appreciated.