Chapter 13

Sira felt a pair of arms around her, familiar and reassuring, and she slowly opened her blue eyes. She saw his face, his grey eyes watching her and terror filled her heart. She was back at Number 12 Grimmauld Place and it was happening again, just like it did before. "Sirius," she whispered and she tried to get away from him but his arms keep her close, no matter how hard she struggled. Her body was trembling with her terror. She didn't want to be yelled at again, she didn't want to have to hear those foul words again.

"Sira," he said gently as his eyes filled with his concern for her, "what's wrong?" Her eyes suddenly grew confused and she stopped her struggle against his arms.

"What?" she asked back, feeling nothing but shock and bafflement. Puzzlement filled his warm, grey eyes. "You, you aren't going to yell at me?" He shook his head a little and pulled her nearer to him, letting out a soft chuckle as he did so.

"Why would I do anything like that?" he asked, giving her a wide grin.

"But-," she murmured and he hushed her. Her eyes grew more confused, at least she was no longer afraid.

"Sira, you know that I don't feel that way about you," he stated proudly as he stroked her hair gently, "and you know that I would never say anything like that to you. What you saw was not me, even if he looked like me. He was not true, not reality. That was only what Lord Voldemort used to torment you because he knew how much you allied on me. He twisted your memory of me and used it against you but, no matter what, it was not me." She cuddled up to him, comforted by his words. She had known that it was false all along but she just needed to hear him say it, to confirm it. He chuckled and shook his head again. "Oh now you love me," he said playfully.

She nodded her head and she snuggled her body closer to his, wrapping her arms around him as he continued to chuckle. "I love you so much, Sirius," she said softly as she looked up into his face.

"I love you too," he said back gently, "and nothing can take that love away."

The soft light from the world outside filled the room and caused Scabior's blue-grey eyes to glitter as he gazed at Sira. She still lay in his arms, still asleep and still near to him. Her face was completely peaceful, showing no signs of stress or strain. Her sleep was calm and he knew that her dreams weren't bothering her, like he feared they would. The door to the room opened slowly and Cal stepped into the room, freezing to the spot when she locked eyes with him. She just stood there, wide-eyed like she just walked in on something private. Her ice-blue eyes looked at him, studying him as they almost showed a fear. "Are you decent?" she asked as her eyes fell on his bare chest, she was hoping he was only shirtless.

A mischievous smile formed on his face and then he threw back the covers to see her wince and look away, causing a laugh to rise out of his chest. "Cal, you can look," he stated and she slowly looked at him as he gestured to his plaid pants. He was clearly decent. Anger welled up in her ice-blue eyes as she examined him and then a cruel smile formed on her lips.

"Wow, Scabior," she hissed, "where did your abs go? Is someone getting flabby?" She tilted her head as she gazed at him, wanting revenge. He stopped laughing and glared at her. He was not 'flabby' because he still had some muscling, even if it wasn't as much as he had when he was with her. "I don't know how Sira can lie next to an insensitive jerk like you," she growled as she walked further into the room, her eyes never leaving his, "or did you force her to like you forced me to?"

"Give it a rest, Cal," he snarled as his anger started to show in his face.

"I don't understand how she can love a man like you," she jeered as her eyes became fiercer. "You're barely a man and you just go around from woman to woman like they are nothing. You love them and leave them. Do you want to leave Sira? Just like you left me?" He had enough of this, enough of the mocking just because she was still upset about him leaving her a few years ago. She knew that he loved Sira but she would never let him forget his old ways before he had her, the ways he wished he could just forget.

"At least I didn't 'ave to sell myself to find love," he barked and Cal froze, her jaw dropped a little and disbelief in her eyes. She couldn't believe that he had just said that. Cal dropped her eyes from his as she fought back the tears that wanted to fall from her eyes and then returned her gaze to him, shaking her head as she did so.

"You didn't just say that," she muttered as her eyes grew duller. His eyes softened a bit as he looked at her, he didn't mean to hurt her that much.

"I didn't mean to," he mumbled as he looked at Sira beside him, she was completely unaware of anything going on around her. "I really didn't." There was a long silence, both of them not talking and just furious with each other. "Did the Dark Lord ever say when she had to leave for the Snatchers? And what gang she had to join?" Cal looked at him, puzzled that he wasn't going to fight her anymore.

"No, he never said anything," she stated as he looked at her. "Why do you ask?"

"She could come with me," he replied softly. "She doesn't 'ave to be completely alone. I can care for 'er and I can watch over 'er." He looked back to Sira, wrapping an arm around her. "I could make it okay, I could make it so it's not a punishment."

"When would you leave?" she asked as she looked at her friend.

"As soon as she feels ready," he stated as he pulled her close and held her, thinking that she would probably be happier with the Snatchers than with the Death Eaters. He hoped that she would.

Her blue eyes opened to find herself still in Scabior's arms. She stretched, trying to wake herself up and he looked at her, his attention turning to her as she stirred. "Good morning, beautiful," he whispered as a sleepy smile formed on her lips and her eyes gazed into his. She felt so much better than she did before. She felt relieved, even if her body was a little sore. "'ow are you feeling?"

"Good," she exhaled, "just a little stiff." She snuggled up to him, amazed that she felt so good. His hand ran through her hair caressingly as he smiled at her, glad that she was feeling fine.

"I don't mean to rush you but, since the Dark Lord ordered you to be a Snatcher, when do you want to go?" he questioned quickly, seeming eager to soon have her with him at all times again. Confusion entered her eyes as she lifted her head off of his chest.

"'e didn't tell you when you 'ad to go or which gang you 'ad to join," he stated proudly as he gazed at her compassionately, "so you can go whenever you want and you can join whichever gang you want." She dropped her eyes, rethinking what the Dark Lord had said to her. Scabior was right; all he said was that she was to be a Snatcher. Then, a realization rose in her mind, causing her to look back into his face.

"I don't know how to be a Snatcher," she muttered. He let out a light chuckle.

"It's probably easier than being a Death Eater," he said gently, "and you get paid."

"I don't care about getting paid," she sighed as she rested her head on his chest again. He chuckled again as his arms wrapped around her a little tighter.

"I know you don't," he breathed, "but the point is being a Snatcher isn't difficult. We just catch people, take them to the Ministry, and collect our reward." Her stomach churned at his words, show would have to collect Muggle-borns and send them to their punishment. She didn't think she could handle it, she didn't think she had the heart to do it. At least, if she went with Scabior, he would be there to comfort her. That seemed like the only good thing about being a Snatcher to her right now, and it was the only thing making her want to go.

"Which gang do you belong to?" she asked, breaking a long silence and breaking away from her thoughts.

"Greyback's," Scabior answered flatly and disbelief covered her face.

"Fenrir Greyback's? The werewolf?" she asked. She had never liked Fenrir much. He was demanding, evil, sick, and twisted. She just wanted to snarl at the thought of him. She hoped that nothing else was wrong about this situation.

"Yes," he said, "is that a problem?" His blue-grey eyes looked at her, not wanting there to be a problem.

"No," she breathed, "its fine. I just don't like him the best." She stretched a little again. "So, when do you want to leave?"

"Whenever you're ready and feel up to it," he stated as he held her tighter, his eagerness becoming more present and pronounced.

"After I collect a few things," she said quickly as she pulled herself out of his arms, "let's go. I'm as ready as I'll ever be." She gave him a gently smile, which he returned, and started to get her things.