Here's chapter 3! Chapter 4 is almost ready too...If anyone is actually reading this story, thank you again for your patience - I promise there will be lots of Sirius, but I want to make Analeigh's introduction to the magical world believable, and that will take time. Thank you to my first subscriber! Reviews make my day! teehee

BF xx

Oh and I forgot to do this for the other chapters but I own nothing but Analeigh and Analeigh-related characters/things. Everything else belongs to the wonderful J.K. Rowling!

Hiking in heels and portkeys

When he wakes me it feels like I only blinked, but he tells me it's been about an hour. I sit up groggily and try to fight the feeling that I'm sinking back into a nightmare, but I barely have time to yawn before the Knight bus has lurched to a stop again, and Sirius is dragging me towards the door. I stumble around, trying to find my balance as my wedge heels catch on the threadbare rug covering the floor, and gasp when I reach the open door. It's cold (even though it's almost July) and there's quite a wind. Stonehaven is in Scotland, of course it's going to be cold, says the more awake side of my brain. Within seconds, though, I am wide awake, and shivering violently as Sirius nods to the conductor and gets off behind me. With a creak and a BANG, the Knight bus shoots off into the distance before disappearing, leaving darkness and a ringing silence behind it. Sirius turns around and looks me up and down, as if estimating. There's no moon in the sky, but the stars are plentiful and bright so I can just about make out the glint of his eyes in the darkness. He seems to reach some kind of decision, heaves a sigh, and begins to shrug out of his leather jacket, saying "You're really not dressed for this, are you?"

I look down at my white sun dress (somewhat stained with blood) and bare legs, and think well I wasn't exactly given warning. But I accept his jacket gratefully, and pull it on. It's heavy, still warm from his body heat, smelling so obviously masculine; and for the first time in this horrific night I allow myself to feel just a little bit safe. He watches me zip it up, pinches the bridge of his nose, then looks at my feet. "Try to go as far as you can in those shoes before you take them off. Don't twist your ankle though, that's just what we need."

He sounds exasperated. I look down at the offending footwear and suddenly realise that we are literally in the middle of nowhere. The bus dropped us on a very narrow country lane, surrounded by what seems like fields. It's impossible to make out a thing in the darkness, but listening closely I can hear the soft crash of waves against rock. The salt tang in the air reminds me of summers at Folly beach, and this sudden familiarity gives me the courage to ask him "Where are we going?" without stuttering.

His shadowy form seems to loom over me as he moves closer, but I don't step back. It's so dark, and I would rather stay close to this surly stranger than be alone in the inky night. "We're going to have to take this path round the edge of the cliffs through the fields. There's a portkey there – kind of a teleportation device – that will take us to our headquarters, but it leaves in an hour's time so we need to get going" he says, looking around.

I'm just about to express some kind of concern about standing so close to a cliff edge in pitch darkness when he mutters "Lumos", and his wand lights up like a torch. It's much more pleasant than a torch though, I think, captivated by it. All silvery and glowy. He holds it up in the space between us, casting striking shadows on his face, and I wonder vaguely what I must look like to him. He stares at me for a moment, searching my face with a strange expression in his eyes, then jerks his head to the right and walks off. I let out a breath I didn't realise I was holding, and follow him down the path. I don't bring up the weird teleportation device – lassitude has taken over my mind again and I can't bring myself to worry about it. Headquarters…sounds like something government-related…is this to do with Dad? I think but don't ask, because I am now too intent on navigating the rough country lane with my wedge sandals. Sirius' wand casts enough of a glow to light my way from in front of him, and I stumble and trip, keeping up lest I should fall out of the circle of light and into the darkness.

I don't know how long we walk for. My mind is in a daze, only capable of concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other, and trying not to twist an ankle. There are large pebbles and grass roots everywhere, and at the edge of the path heather snags at the hem of my dress. I can still hear the water lapping at the rocks below in a steady, soothing rhythm. At some point I decide the shoes aren't worth it and take them off. Sirius waits patiently, and we continue our trek, sandals swinging from my hand. I know the rough ground is tearing into my feet, but the air is cold and I lost feeling in my lower limbs a while back. The path, which at first was sloping gently upwards, now reaches a steeper incline, and the wind begins to pick up. Caught unawares I stumble and almost fall as the gust catches in the back of the over-sized jacket and almost blows me into the heather. I remember this problem from my Duke of Edinburgh expedition - being taller than average but light-weight, and wearing large clothing turns me into a human wind sail. By the third time this happens, Sirius (who appears to be fighting a smile) takes my shoes from me and tells me to walk in front of him instead. When I do I feel the fabric of the jacket pull tight. I jump slightly, but realise this is only because he has grabbed a fistful of the material, to keep a hold on me. Another gust proves this point, as he drags me back on track against the wind.

And so we continue. The path becomes so steep at one point that I have to use my arms to balance on some rocks as I try to fight the wind and climb around them. Sirius stays behind me, using his grip on the jacket to guide or steady (or sometimes just drag) me when I stumble.

"Come on, we're almost there", he says, almost encouragingly. "We have to hurry or else we'll miss it. Come on". But I'm out of breath, out of energy and all too tired to be climbing on cliff paths at near 3am, so he grabs my arm and starts to pull me up the hill. It seems like years ago that we left the bus, and I'm just about to say no, no thank you, I'd like to give up now when the path suddenly levels out. I bump into Sirius as he comes to a halt. "There it is, we're here. And just in time too" he says to me, and leads us slightly off the path, over to a small unassuming heather bush. Underneath it, there is an old worn glove. It's not a bad glove - in fact it would probably warm my hands up substantially and I'd be grateful. But it just doesn't look like a teleportation machine.

I feel a bubble of laughter rising up in my throat, escaping my mouth as a high-pitched giggle. Sirius looks at me strangely, but exhaustion is taking over and my brain feels like it's running in overdrive so I can't stop myself. I burst into laughter. "That's what we hiked all this way for? An old glove?" I manage through my giggles. Sirius seems to sense how close I am to a breakdown, and grabs my shoulders, turning me to face him. He ducks his head to bring his eyes level with mine, and I my laughter dies on my lips. Suddenly it's not very funny any more. The sky over his shoulder must be east, because I can see the pitch black of night is fading to indigo.

"We're almost there." He's almost whispering. "Don't lose it. Keep going a little longer and it'll all make sense, I promise".

I duck my head, unable to hold his gaze, and feel my eyes water again. The fatigue is weighing on me – I think my body must have used up all its adrenaline back in that alleyway, because I can't summon a single coherent thought. But the tone of his voice is so soothing and I allow myself to be reassured. I nod and he releases me, looks at his watch (a strange contraption that doesn't even bear thinking about right now) and swears. He grabs my waist so that we're pressed chest to chest - I can't even find the energy to complain – and hauls me closer to the glove.

"You need to hold on to it, OK? It leaves in 10 seconds. You're going to feel a tug, and then some spinning. Please don't throw up on me." I want to tell him no no, I've never thrown up in my life, but he continues, "Portkeys are a bit like muggle trains – they leave at a certain time from a certain place, and arrive somewhere else".

With that, he starts counting down from 5. I look blankly at the glove and he rolls his eyes, jamming the half that he isn't holding into my un-resisting fingers.

3

I close my eyes.

2

I can just feel his breath on the crown of my head before…

1

My eyes fly open as I feel a huge tug somewhere around my navel, and my feet are swept off the ground. This does not feel like a train. Well, maybe like a train without a roof. We're spinning through wind and blurred colours and I'm trying to scream but my stomach is in my throat and I want to let go but my hand is glued to the glove and his arm to my waist and then –

My bare feet slam into solid ground and I go down with the force of it. A grunt by my ear tells me that Sirius has also fallen over, and when I open my eyes I see that we are a tangled mass of limbs on a grassy lawn.

"Where…" is all I can manage before I double over, groaning as the world continues to spin around me.

Fortunately Sirius understands what I mean.

"In the Lake District. Specifically, the small town of Kendal. But this isn't where we're stopping. You alright?"

He grabs a hold of my elbow as I try to stand up and sway alarmingly to the right. I feel a bit queasy, but definitely not throwing-up-kind-of sick.

"Yeah, just dizzy I think"

"Portkeys take a bit of getting used to. That's why everyone prefers apparation" he smiles wryly. I think it's some kind of inside joke, but I'm not sure what apparation is so I smile back weakly and stay silent. He's being kind of nice, a stark contrast to his behaviour earlier this evening. Maybe he has mood swings. Looking around, I can see that we have arrived in a small park, more like a village green. Sirius ushers me forward towards the exit gate, and we emerge on to a quiet residential street, lined with parked cars. He looks around, seemingly searching for something, and then makes his way over to a car, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a pair of keys as he goes. I walk warily behind him, still shaking the last spells of dizziness from my head, and ask, "Is this your car?"

"No." is the simple reply, but when he sees the look on my face, he elaborates. "It's one that the Order uses for its…activities…when needed. I'm just using it for tonight."

I'm silently thankful - it sounds stupid considering all that's happened tonight, but becoming a thief (or accomplice) just seems like one step too far. He unlocks the car and opens the passenger door, watching me closely as I slide in and make myself comfortable before shutting it behind me. No doubt he thinks I might try to run again. Honestly, there is a voice in my head chanting run run run run run but I'm too tired to listen, and getting in is much easier. The driver's side opens and then he's in the car, the engine's on and he's swearing black and blue at the gear stick. We stall twice before he manages to get the car unparked, and then we're roaring down the road at what must be well over the speed limit, jerking violently every time he changes gear.

"I usually drive a motorcycle…a Triumph," he says by way of explanation, his voice tinged with both embarrassment and pride. I look over at his profile. The sun is now just peaking over the horizon, and half his face is bathed in pale gold light. The longer strands of his hair brush the collar of his t-shirt and fall in his eyes, and I think Yes, I can imagine you would ride a motorbike. Fits with your rebel look. He continues quietly "Our headquarters are half an hour away, at Denwood House, we'll be there soon".

I nod once and turn back to rest my head against the window glass, and watch the sun rise.