Chapter 24

In the following weeks after the skirmish at the Malfoy Manor, the air was thick with a new sense of fear and tension. The feeling was infectious, dread hung on the hearts of all those who lived and breathed for they all knew that there was no way to escape the inevitable. The disastrous thought nipped at the back of their minds like savage dogs with frothing mouths and flashing teeth, never leaving them to be at peace. War, the beasts barked, causing all to shiver. War. There was no escape this time.

War. It hung on the horizon, a million marching feet pounding the earth.

War. It was coming closer, rapidly approaching.

War. There would be slaughter, lives lost, blood spilled.

War. Death would follow in its wake, claiming souls, taunting the wounded.

War. Death had a twisted grin on his cruel lips.

War. He lowered his hood.

War. Death had a face.

Sira bolted upright, her eyes wild with terror. Sweat beaded up on her forehead as she struggled to catch her breath. Quickly, she observed her surroundings, only to see the morning light pour into the room from behind the curtains. It was only a dream, she told herself as her eyes watched the rhythmic breathing of her sleeping Scabior beside her. None of it was real.

Then why did her heart beat with dread? Why did terror cling to her throat? Why did her lungs not want to catch a breath? Was it because it was all true? The war, the destruction, the look on Death's face when they locked eyes?

Shivers rand down her spine at the thought.

Suddenly, her stomach gave a violent churn and she gagged, every fiber of her being instantly tensed. The wave of nausea soon passed, but she still felt ill. Slowly, she stood and went to her dresser to change out of her sleepwear and into something a bit better, a light-blue dress.

Ivan had bought the dress for her as, what he had called it, "a present to make up for all of your birthdays I missed." Even the thought of the dress caused her to smile because, even thought she was showing a bit, it still fit her wonderfully. She knew she was lucky to have a cousin as nice as him.

Then, she remembered that they had made plans to spend the day together. Not for a particular reason though. All they wanted was to spend some times together to catch up and become closer to one another. Sira felt like she owed him a family, since she had taken his away and she knew she could be his family until he started one of his own. If, and only if, he would let her be his family.

She hoped that he would.

Quickly, she pushed the horrid possibility from her head. They were cousins; they couldn't hate each other, right? The question rattled around in her head as she combed her hair with a brush, untangling her curls. The thought made her nausea return, just to dissipate again.

He forgave you, you know that, Sira, she told herself. He understands. He truly does. And, most importantly, he doesn't hate you.

She sighed, calming herself. She knew she had nothing to worry about, but she couldn't help herself. Maybe she'd stop worrying when this war was over and Voldemort was dead.

"Ivan," she said with a smile as she opened the front door of her house, "you're late." He laughed lightly as a grin spread across his lips.

"I'm not late," he said playfully, his grin turning mischievous. "You told me to be here at eleven o'clock sharp, and its ten fifty-nine."

"You're late for being early." He rolled his eyes, still laughing.

"Are we going or not?" he asked with a sideways smile. "I have to skip practice today just for you."

"Well I'm glad you did," she stated as she stepped out of the house, closing the door behind her, "because I'd be upset if my own cousin decided against spending the day with me to play Quidditch."

"I can practice any day, but it's not every day I can spend time with you." His comment caused her to blush.

"Aww, I feel important."

A laugh broke from his chest. "So where are we going?"

"To Diagon Alley, of course!" She grabbed his hand, smiling at him, and in the next instant, they both disappeared from the doorstep.

Soon, the cousins appeared in Diagon Alley, the street dark and gloomy. Most of the shops were closed and boarded up, looking neglected and abandoned. Merlin's beard, Sira thought to herself as she studied the buildings. She was shocked, appalled, and a bit scared. This is what the war had done. "Ivan," she whispered, a tightness filling her chest as she looked at him. Pain glittered in her eyes, the pain of what she had done.

He looked at her, his eyes locking with hers. His were warm and kind.Innocent. They made her feel inadequate, dirty. "This is not your fault. Don't think that it is," he stated gently. "You're better than them, you're better than this." His eyes were begging, pleading her to understand. She nodded and started to walk with him toward one of the few shops still open. Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

The feeling in her chest tightened, forcing her to look at her feet and keep walking. A happy little girl ran through the streets, giggling and grinning as if nothing could ever go wrong, as if nothing was wrong. Sira watched the girl, curious about her presence. The girl continued to run, squealing with her glee, her brown hair flying. Nothing could kill her joy.

But then, she fell. Her little body tumbled to the street below her. The girl screamed, and as she screamed, a snake slithered out of the darkness, its eyes gleaming red. Tears rolled down the girl's cheeks, she didn't even notice the snake.

The serpent came closer, flicking its forked tongue, as it coiled, hissing softly.

Pain seared through Sira's left arm as the snake sank its fangs into the girl's arms, causing both of them to cry out in agony. The snake slithered back into the darkness as the tears rolled down Sira's cheeks.

"Sira," Ivan said firmly as he held her tight, keeping her from falling. "Sira!" The girl was gone, like a vapor vanishing into the air. "What's wrong!?"

"I- I don't…" she stammered, whimpering a bit. "My arm." It throbbed as she looked at it, seeing her Dark Mark. It was black, and moving. She looked up at him, her eyes fearful. He didn't look back at her; he was too mesmerized by the Mark.

"This is bad," he whispered, "very bad." He took her hand and rushed towards the Weasley's shop. His grip was tight, almost desperate.

"What- what are you doing?" she questioned, feeling dazed and light-headed. "They hate me."

"You don't know that," he responded as he opened the door to the shop, "and its time to do some good." He ushered her in, closing the door behind them.

She froze as he moved past her and into the center of the shop, her eyes fixed on him. "Ivan Volkov!" hollered one of the twins; she thought it was Fred, with a grin on his face.

"The great Bulgarian Beater returns to grace us with his presence," George said as they both put an arm around his shoulders. "What can we help you with today?"

"Just looking today," Ivan said with a little smile. "You know that I always need something to prank my teammates with."

"Of course," the twins said simultaneously.

"I've been wondering something, Ivan," Fred said as both he and his brother moved away from him. "Since you have the same last name as the infamous-."

"-And voluptuous," George added with a sly grin.

"Sira Volkov, has the war affected you much?"

"Badly, he means."

"Well, gents, nothing has really changed so I'll have to say no to that question," Ivan stated, causing the twins to smile.

"That's good," they both said.

"'Cause you know what they say, one look and you're done for," George stated.

"You're hooked with just one look, there's just something about her that drives men crazy. And then you're caught."

"A lamb to the slaughter."

"She gets you in her grasp, gets in your pants. And then its lights out for you."

"See you later."

"Done for."

"You'll find yourself six feet under."

"She's just a harlot, and she'll never be anything more," Fred rattled off, disgust flicking in his eyes.

"A traitorous tart," George added with a scowl on his face. "She leaves the Order for the Death Eaters, kills her best friend, and never evenapologizes for any of it. I can't believe Sirius saw anything special about her."

"Or Dumbledore, for the fact."

"I feel sorry for that poor bloke that was with her," George said with a shake of his head. "I'd be surprised if he's still alive and, if he is, I feel even more sorry for him."

"I bet she doesn't even love him, and I bet she didn't even love Sirius. She was probably just using him. What a shrew! He was such a kind man; he didn't deserve to fall in love with her."

"Is that what you really think of me?" Sira asked as she stepped out of the shadows, her tears wetting her eyelashes. "Is that who you believe I am?" Her eyes held her sorrow as she watched them. Their jaws dropped.

"Son of a banshee," they mumbled, their eyes wide. "You're here..."

"And pregnant," Fred added softly. The twins looked between Ivan and Sira, confused and a bit suspicious.

"I'm her cousin," Ivan stated as he went over to her, helping her to stay upright when she started to sway with her pain.

"We didn't know, Ivan," George stated, his anger leaving his eyes. "Sorry for saying those things about her." Fred glared at Sira, his eyes still filled with his distrust.

"What do you want?" Fred questioned as if he was disgusted with her. "We don't serve your kind here, we don't dabble with Death Eaters, and especially not the traitorous ones." Her eyes dropped to the floor as she let out a long sigh, unsure of what to say to that.

"You don't know what I've been through," she said gently. "Maybe if you knew, you'd understand me just a little bit better."

"We know your story." His tone was dead serious. "There's no need to tell it again."

"Do you really? Do you know how I felt after I murdered Anastasia? Because I felt awful afterwards, I felt physically ill, and only Scabior, my fiancé, could make me feel better. Do you know how I lost the favor of Lord Voldemort? I saw how corrupt he was, I saw the mistakes of allof them, and I wanted out so I made a pact and an Unbreakable Vow with the Malfoy's saying that we'd try to get out of the group. Do you know how that backfired on me? Did you know that I was tortured, stripped of my rank, and forced to be a Snatcher because of my desire to leave? Did you know that I joined Fenrir Greyback's gang and he took a liking to me? Did you know that he took advantage of me and that's why I'm pregnant? Do you really think you know the whole story?

"I'm tired of being a Death Eater, I'm tired of the war, I'm tired of the death and the destruction, and I'm tired of losing my friends and loved ones. I don't want to fight for something I don't believe in. I don't want to die for a worthless cause. I'm unwise for thinking I belonged there, because I didn't ever belong there. My place is with the Order, where it always has been, but it has taken me two years of torture to learn the truth."

"I don't believe you," Fred stated. "You killed one of our own and you murdered the Minister along with three others. You tricked all of us on top of that. What makes you believe we'll believe you? How do we know you're not lying to us right now?"

She raised her left arm, showing them her Dark Mark, which was still extremely black. They gazed at it with a mix of awe and horror, wondering what it meant and if she was going to call her Lord to their shop.

"What does it mean?" George asked, looking into her eyes.

"It's never hurt this much before," she said weakly. "I fear the worst."

"What?"

"War."