Chapter Nine (Sirius – Misha - Sirius)

(Sirius)

"I'll do it."

Sirius could not quite believe his ears. This sort of recklessness from a Hufflepuff? What the hell was she trying to prove? He opened his mouth to speak… to protest… to… to… well he was not sure what he was going to say, but neither was he sure he was quite pleased with her decision to simply let James Potter invade her body as she scampered on off to where-ever-the-hell-dead-people-go to talk to Lily. Granted, he desperately wanted to speak to James, but somehow this seemed foolish – even to him. And that was saying something. "I'm not sure if this is a good idea," Sirius began, trying with all his might not to sound like a fusty old man.

"And you call yourself a Gryffindor? You're nothing but a swotty little Ravenclaw," laughed James, forcing Sirius to break into a good-natured scowl.

But Misha merely shot him a wry smile and reached for his hand. "It'll be fine, love," she whispered, adding, "besides, I think you need this."

Something cold and dreadful niggled at the back of his brain and Sirius shivered. He'd lost so much in his life: James and Lily, Regulus, Remus (to an extent), and even Peter. He'd lost nearly everyone he'd ever cared for and now, finally, he'd found a home. He was safe here. Loved. Wanted. Or at least he thought so. Could he really risk losing all this?

"Padfoot, it'll be fine. Trust me," said James as if reading his mind.

Sirius looked up at the source of the voice, instinctively hoping to see black, messy hair falling across a pale, bespectacled face. But he was greeted only by Misha's gentle, green-eyed smile. "I don't want to lose you," he said softly.

"I'm already dead," supplied James unhelpfully, as Misha shook her head.

"It'll be fine," she reassured.

"If I could, I'd forbid you to do it!" Sirius asserted.

"Way to be sexist, there," laughed James, adding, "besides, this one's a bit like Lily and we all know that there is no authority I could muster that'd make Lily obey a direct order."

"I think I like her already," Misha said. She leaned over and kissed Sirius fiercely. "I'll be fine, love. Now let's get this over with."

(Misha)

The room jolted to the left and began to spin wildly. The last thing Misha saw before blacking out was Sirius' worried face, and the first thing she noticed after regaining consciousness was the cold. It was more than cold: it was freezing, a deep bone-chilling chill she'd never experienced.

"Welcome," said a disembodied voice from somewhere to her left. The world grew gradually brighter and Misha found herself sprawled on a colorful braided rug beside a blazing fire that gave absolutely no warmth. For a brief and frightening moment, she had no idea where she was, recalling only vague images of Sirius' luminous grey eyes and a bossy mantel clock. "Hello, I'm Lily Potter," continued the voice, "I can offer you a blanket, but I'm afraid it won't be of much use."

Despite the fact that she could no longer feel her fingers, Misha managed a shaky nod. A scratchy, woolen afghan floated down around her shoulders and Misha snuggled into it. True to Lily's warning, it provided little relief from the piercing cold, but at least it gave the illusion of warmth.

"I take it James neglected to tell you about the cold bit," Lily asked with a small sigh.

Misha glanced down at her pale, silky sundress and fought the urge to say, "no shit." But why be rude? Lily seemed kind and it was hardly her fault her husband was rather an idiot. "That's okay," lied Misha with a small shrug.

Lily went on to explain that that Dead had no need for warmth and, frankly, sometimes they forgot about it altogether. She crossed the room and tossed another log onto the useless fire. Though the room grew no warmer, things slowly began to swim into focus, enabling Misha to finally see her companion. Lily was lovely – not to mention gorgeous. There was no doubt about that. But what was there to say? Honestly, Misha had no idea how to begin a conversation with a dead woman.

"Erm, your son is a wonderful boy," she offered. "I sometimes teach at Hogwarts and I've gotten to know him a little. He's very polite – and quite brave – and he has some smashingly loyal friends."

Lily's face broke into a radiant smile. "Oh, you know Harry!" she cried. "Are you one of his regular teachers? Does he get good marks from you?"

Misha smiled nervously. No, Harry had never been one of her regular students and, if he were, he'd likely not have gotten good marks. Talented as Harry was at magic, the boy was utterly tone deaf and quite likely arrhythmic as well. "Well, no… erm… I teach music," she offered weakly. And to her great delight, Lily threw her head back and laughed.

"Oh, you are a polite one, are you not?" she snorted. "Neither James nor I could carry a tune in a bucket if our lived depended on it, so why should Harry?" She giggled merrily then calmed herself down, taking a deep breath for support. "So, James told me that you're a violinist," she said, still smiling brightly.

"Of sorts," replied Misha, "but not a very good one, I'm afraid." She frowned, an unvoiced question rising in the back of her mind. "Erm, how does James know that?" she asked curiously.

Lily gazed at her with an unreadable expression. "Misha, James has followed Sirius about since the moment we crossed over," she said. "He was with him in Azkaban and he followed him for those months on the run."

"My god," breathed Misha. "Sirius… he was never really alone, was he?"

Lily shook her head. "Never. We'd never allow that."

Misha smiled, the thought of Sirius always being watched over providing a slight warmth in the otherwise frigid room. Still, she shivered. Drawing the blanket closer around herself, she looked up to see Lily staring at her with an appraising glance.

"He really loves you, you know," Lily said at last.

"James?"

"No, Sirius," laughed Lily.

"Oh," Misha whispered, unable to meet Lily's eye. Sadly, she still had her doubts. A small silence fell over the room once again. The fire crackled icily in the hearth and a clock ticked silently on the mantel.

"I've never seen him with a woman before but it seems… right… somehow with you," Lily began. She was gazing steadily at Misha, her green eyes gleaming in the growing darkness of the Potter's lounge.

"He was with Remus," Misha said stupidly.

Lily nodded slowly. "And only with Remus, if you catch my meaning," but that ended long, long ago. "Sirius has a great - almost canine - capacity to love, but that adoration and devotion was too much for poor Remus, who never truly loved him the same way. Poor Sirius, I'd never seen anyone so devastated in my life - even James at his most desperate was never so heartbreakingly depressed. We thought he'd never recover but, he was just starting to get over it when… when…" Lily gave a small, nervous laugh, raised her hands, and shrugged.

"When Halloween happened?" finished Misha. It was all falling into place now: Sirius' declarations of love, his hesitance at physical intimacy, and his fear of rejection. Deep within her gut, something broke, a taut hesitancy giving way to flood of new assurances. Her hands were shaking and the room grew shimmery around her.

"And you love him, too, don't you?" murmured Lily, almost to herself.

"YES!" Misha found herself crying. "Yes, I'd… I'd give my life for him. And Harry! Oh, he loves Harry so. I promise, Lily, we'll let nothing happen to Harry. We'll take perfect care of him and give him a home and…" Her sudden use of the plural pronoun was not lost on her, despite her newfound dizziness. The cold was sharper now, each breath labored in the icy darkness.

Lily rose and, crossing the small space between them, crouched down beside Misha. "We need to get you home now but… thank you, Misha. You'll take good care of my boys, I know it!"

"Of course…" murmured Misha. The darkness was growing deeper now, the fire in the hearth and the brightness of Lily's hair fading to a dull amber. "I…" And then something screamed in her brain and the world went black."

(Sirius)

James had disappeared midsentence. After assuring him, that he'd never been alone, even through his darkest days in Azkaban, the talk and turned to Harry and to politics and, eventually, to nostalgia. James had been halfway through a recollection of Sirius' first attempt to burp Harry (and the streams of regurgitated milk and curse words that had followed), when he simply went silent and seemed to fade from Misha's eyes.

Frankly, hearing is best friend's voice in his girlfriend's (was she really his girlfriend?) body was disconcerting. Yet James had inhabited her perfectly; Potter's wild gestures flowing through her long, tapered fingers, and his trademark grin on her full, soft lips. But none of that was nearly as strange – or as frightening – as the moment James had disappeared, leaving her motionless body collapsed on the bed.

"Misha?" he whispered urgently, leaning close to her still face. "Misha, are you there?" She was breathing – but barely. And she was very, very cold.

"JAMES?" he screamed into the night. But the only sound was the soft ticking of the mantel clock and the creak of a distant floorboard.

"You'd best get her into bed," the clock admonished - and for once Sirius obeyed without thinking. Dimly, he recalled something he'd once read about conserving body heat. Skin against skin was warmest, he remembered. He stripped off his own clothing, pulled her flimsy sundress over his head, and pressed his body to hers. "Ah, yes, quite a brilliant idea," praised the mantel clock.

Sirius Accio'd several blankets and a thick, downy quilt, wrapping them securely around Misha and himself as snuggled down into the bed. He held her tightly, casting a few Warming Charms for good measure. Yet, no matter what he did, Misha remained very cold and very still. "Fuck you," he hissed into her unhearing ear. "What the hell did you go and do that for? You can't leave me, too!"

But Misha did not move. Her breathing was steady, but slow and shallow. Her face was pale.

Frightened, Sirius pressed his face into her vanilla-scented hair and sobbed. This was never meant to end this way, he swore. An hour later, he as asleep.

To be continued. Not the best chapter – sorry! Reviews are much appreciated.