Chapter 51: Astronomy
"Black, you're blocking my view with that unkempt mane of yours," said Ariadne irritably, swatting him away from the lens of her telescope.
Sirius merely smirked at her and ran his fingers suggestively through the aforementioned long hair. "Ahh, Morrigan, don't act like you don't love the hair just as much as the other witches," he drawled, draping himself over one of the battlements of the Astronomy tower.
"Have you ever considered that you wildly overestimate the general Hogwarts' population's attraction to you?" said Ariadne curtly, now unfolding a complicated star chart.
"No," answered Sirius, now toying with the undone tie hanging loosely around his neck in the gap between several opened buttons on his shirt.
"Am I the first witch to ever even question you on this?"
Sirius considered this. "Yes, and you're also the first witch to so paradoxically doubt and at the same time so vigorously affirm my attractiveness."
Ariadne raised her eyes from focusing her telescope to give him a withering look. "Please, draw my attention to the moment when I've affirmed your boundless vanity."
"Oh Ariadne, you don't need to say anything. Your actions speak volumes," said Sirius, his eyes sparking with amusement. "Though it'd be bloody satisfying to hear you admit it too."
"Admit what, precisely?"
"That you find me damn attractive," he said, hitting her with the full blast of his devilish smile while finally taking off his tie.
"Put that back on, Black, you're in violation of dress code," said Ariadne automatically, despite the fact that it was past midnight and they were alone atop the Astronomy tower, with less than a miniscule chance of encountering a teacher.
Sirius and Ariadne had ventured up here a few nights following their last meeting in the Room of Requirement to do some precise tracking of lunar cycles and tricky weather predictions for their Animagus transformation. Ariadne felt almost dizzied by the number of priorities she was juggling; despite all the time they were investing in figuring out and combating the Death Eaters' plan of terror, they couldn't abandon preparations for the Animagus process either, because it was such a long and time-consuming one. Besides, as Sirius had pointed out, and Ariadne quickly realized as well, they might be complementary goals. Being able to transform themselves into animals at will could prove advantageous to fighting the Death Eaters in a variety of ways.
They had snuck out with the help of James's Invisibility Cloak again, but this time, the mysterious magical object had caused a huge fight.
Up in the Gryffindor seventh-year boys dormitory earlier that night, really the only safe place to openly handle the cloak, Ariadne gave it a close examination. She wouldn't accept Sirius or James's objections any longer, and eventually, Sirius gave in with a sigh and gestured for James to go along with it.
Ariadne was muttering various spells and incantations to try to reveal the magic that granted the cloak its powers of invisibility (after swearing to James that she wouldn't harm, as he called it, his "baby.") But nothing was working.
"I don't understand," she finally said in frustration. "It isn't a transitive Invisibility spell that can confer invisibility on the wearer. The fabric isn't woven from Demiguise hair, though I didn't really expect that, it's a rather overdone and unsophisticated method for making invisibility cloaks. I thought perhaps it was an advanced, long-lasting disillusionment charm, but the invisibility is so complete, you don't merely blend in with your surroundings, you disappear…"
Ariadne trailed off as she noticed the coat of arms embroidered and sewn into the nape of the cloak. The Peverell family coat of arms.
She locked eyes with Sirius. "No…" she said slowly. "It can't be…"
Sirius said nothing.
Ariadne raised a fistful of cloak in Sirius's direction. Her voice, like her hand, trembled ever so slightly. "Black. Tell me what you know about this cloak. Now."
Sirius sighed, as if he knew they would eventually get to this point. He was perched on the trunk at the foot his four-poster, chin resting on his interlocked fists. "Ariadne, I know nothing. Only guesses and conjectures."
"Oh no, Mr. 'My-Guesses-Are-Good-as-Fact,'' said Ariadne in a dangerously quiet voice, now advancing on Sirius with the cloak still clutched in her hands. "You don't get to go on about trusting your intuition and highly educated guesses and gambling our safety on your conjectures, and then claim you 'know nothing.'"
"All right then, simmer down, kids, it's just a cloak," said James hurriedly, jumping off his bed to step in between Ariadne and Sirius as she moved ever closer and reached for her wand.
"Stay out of this, Potter," snapped Ariadne, waving him away with her wand.
"It's my bloody cloak!" replied James faintly, with a hint of indignance.
"James, I'll handle this," said Sirius from behind him, standing up. James threw his hands up in surrender and returned to his bed, out of harm's way.
Sirius and Ariadne stood eye-to-eye, Ariadne now pointing her wand at him.
"Is, or is this not, the Invisibility cloak handed down through generations of the Peverell family?" asked Ariadne quietly.
"That's right, got it from my great Uncle Charlie on my dad's side, he was pure Peverell," chirped James from his bed.
"Shut it, Potter."
"Not now, James."
"And is, or is this not, one of the three magical items that comprise the Deathly Hallows?" Ariadne now asked in a hushed whisper.
Sirius nodded slowly, gauging her reaction.
Ariadne lowered her wand in shock. "How long have you known?"
Sirius ran his hand through his hair in his usual gesture of mild agitation. "Again, Ariadne, I don't know anything for certain. Some wizards don't even believe that the Deathly Hallows exist. When James first showed me the cloak, I knew it wasn't any ordinary invisibility cloak. It certainly wasn't some mass-produced Demiguise tablecloth, like you said. It was years before I started to put the pieces together. Still, I've…suspected for some time."
"But the Deathly Hallows…they're something out of legend, a myth that hasn't been corroborated by archival evidence. An oral tale that predates writing, perhaps, until they were transcribed as a children's story. There's no way to prove something like that exists."
"Then explain that," said Sirius simply, gesturing to the cloak.
In her shock Ariadne had almost forgotten her anger. But looking at Sirius, it returned to her.
"You knew that Potter was sitting on a legendary magical object that could prove the EXISTENCE OF THE DEATHLY HALLOWS, and you DIDN'T TELL ME?" raged Ariadne, throwing the cloak to the floor and chasing Sirius around the dormitory with her wand raised while he cowered and dodged her Shocking Spells.
"Ariadne—" protested Sirius as he ducked behind Remus's wardrobe. "Don't you see why this has to remain secret? We can't let it get out that Potter has THE invisibility cloak belonging to one of the three brothers. Everyone would be after it! He'd have a target on his forehead for the rest of his life."
James was staring at his inherited cloak now as if seeing it in a new light.
"Well, obviously, but you could at least tell me," growled Ariadne in between casting blue bolts of electricity in Sirius's direction.
"It wasn't my secret to tell!"
Ariadne slowly lowered her wand as she acceded to this logic. Sirius cautiously crept out from behind Remus's wardrobe, which was now smoking slightly. With a flick of her wand, Ariadne repaired the scorch marks, leaving the wood gleaming and new (and possibly in better condition than it had been before.)
Ariadne withdrew herself from the memories of earlier that day, returning to the cold night on the Astronomy Tower where her prefect instincts had told Sirius off for breaking uniform.
"Morrigan, you can't be serious. You've seen me lose far more clothing than my tie," said Sirius, gazing at her incredulously through his mussed hair.
"Well, I suppose the odds of McGonagall catching you up here with your robes off are rather low," she sighed, now adjusting another dial on her telescope. She gave Sirius another sudden look. "But aren't you COLD? It's the middle of the night in December, for goodness' sake."
Sirius shrugged. "I run hot."
Ariadne realized that this did explain why he was such a comfortable and cozy bedmate in these winter months. She tried to shake these thoughts off and focus on the task at hand. "All right, Black. The next full moon is in exactly two weeks, one day and 7 hours. We could begin the Mandrake leaf cycle then and complete it at the following full moon. However, based on my research," she waved a few dense, old books at him, "it will enhance the power of our transfiguration, and give us a greater chance of success, if we can complete the Mandrake leaf step during a particularly powerful full moon."
Sirius went over to stand next to Ariadne and examine the lunar cycle chart. "Wolf Moon in January…that seems appropriate," he said to Ariadne with a slight grin. "It's also the second full moon of the month."
Ariadne tried to ignore how close he was standing to her. She could feel the warmth radiating from his body—he wasn't lying about being a sort of human furnace. "A blue moon," she murmured. "Sirius, look—" she pointed to a set of orbital diagrams depicting the earth and moon and their distances from each other. "The moon will also be at its perigee during that full moon."
"A closer moon will certainly be more powerful," breathed Sirius, betraying a similar excitement. "A wolf moon, blue moon and supermoon all in one—it's perfect."
Ariadne agreed, which she communicated by not objecting. A second full moon in conjunction with the moon being in its closest possible position to the Earth…she wasn't sure exactly what difference it would make being a wolf moon, but she knew by now that magic sometimes worked in unexpected ways, and their mission being connected to the wolf as a creature with many magical and non-magical abilities, it just might help them.
Ariadne shivered involuntarily as a particularly bitter gust of wind whipped their faces. Before she was fully aware of what was happening, Sirius had draped his unused cloak around her shoulders and was tucking it close around her body.
She rather half-heartedly tried to brush him off. "Sirius—I'm fine—"
"Ariadne, for once in your life, just let me do a half-decent thing for you," said Sirius in mild exasperation, pulling back and gazing at her through a few errant strands of hai\\\\\.
Ariadne scowled at him for a moment before saying, "I'm not sure I should let you get away with those sorts of…romantic—gestures."
Sirius raised an eyebrow. "First of all, Morrigan, 'let' me? I'm as independent and entitled to my own volition as you are. And who said anything about romantic?"
Ariadne was torn between wanting to defend her point and begrudging reluctance to admit the truth of the situation. Without a clear direction to her thoughts, she answered, "Oh please, Black, as Hogwarts resident wizardly Don Juan, you must know that giving the girl your jacket (or for wizards, your cloak) is the oldest of old romantic clichés."
"Maybe I'm just a friend who noticed that his friend is cold," answered Sirius innocently.
"It's not just the cloak, Black," said Ariadne, now resigned to making everything explicit, which was clearly what Sirius wanted in the first place. "It's the middle of the night, and it's being here with you, alone, and it's our history of fighting and shagging and who knows what else, and it's your shirt half-open, and it's…us," she finished, gesturing to everything. She left the last part unspoken, but she knew he would understand: all of this added up to the sum total that Sirius wrapping his cloak around her couldn't be an act fully devoid of any undercurrents of romance.
Sirius's eyes glittered, even in the utter darkness. "Are you finally admitting that there's ridiculous romantic potential between the two of us?"
"Your penchant for hyperbole never fails to deliver," Ariadne said dryly. "But, yes, I am."
Sirius made a movement like a twitch, as though he wanted to move closer to Ariadne, but thought better of it. Instead, he asked in his husky, serious voice, "Can I kiss you, Ariadne?"
Ariadne couldn't deny that she was longing for this very thing. Even though it crossed way too far into the realm of the romantic. Even though she was still stubbornly firm in her conviction that she wasn't going to enter an actual romantic relationship with Sirius. Even though she resisted and fought and tempered her feelings for him.
She nodded. Sirius pulled her cloak-wrapped body into his arms and kissed her. His kisses were always, Ariadne thought, perfectly attuned to the moment. This one was gentle and tender, but confident and sure. Their lips parted and they remained close, gazing at each other face-to-face.
After a moment Sirius, who was still holding Ariadne to him with his hands loosely clasped around her waist, murmured, "Why do you look so worried, Ariadne?"
Ariadne sighed. The truth was, she was rarely more relaxed than when she was with Sirius, whether they were plotting something in an empty greenhouse, debating Transfiguration over dinner, bantering with James and Remus in the Gryffindor Common Room, or snogging (and more) in the Room of Requirement. But that was just it. Romance complicated things. Relationships were work. If what she had witnessed in the hormone-charged whirlwind of five hundred teenagers living together in one castle was any indication, romance added stress, drama, and worries.
"I think you already know," she said in an uncharacteristically soft voice, still allowing herself to be held.
Sirius raised an eyebrow at her, again. "You're seriously still worried about getting involved with me? After you've drugged me, risked your life posing as a Death Eater according to my plan, and pretended to be my wife to steal a restricted-class moth chrysalis from Knockturn Alley?"
Ariadne tried to cover her surprise that Sirius had made such a good point. "That's different…those were all necessary and important to protecting Hogwarts. Dating you is hardly in the same category of importance."
Sirius shrugged his shoulders. "And that's exactly why it's not even close to as risky, complicated or difficult as you're making it out to be."
Ariadne shifted just a little in his arms that were encircling her, as if she felt trapped and thought of escaping. Sirius seemed to read the gesture intuitively.
"Ariadne, I hope you know," he began, his eyes practically burning with the intensity of his words, "that you'll never, ever, have to worry about me holding you back, tying you down, limiting you…whatever it is that lesser men might foolishly try to do with a powerful and unstoppable witch like yourself." As if to demonstrate his point, he released her and held his hands up. "The only thing I've ever wanted of you is see you achieve everything you're capable of. And I know that I can help you and push you to become a greater witch," he continued. His voice became lower and huskier. "We've already done incredible things together."
Ariadne studied Sirius's face, trying to control the conflicted feelings playing across hers. It was true. Her greatest fear about committing herself to a relationship with another was losing her freedom. Feeling a ceiling close above her and a weight dragging her down. But with Sirius, she felt braver. Smarter. Stronger. Their intelligence and abilities played off each other in a way that made them both better. And he seemed to see her as something beyond what she could see herself—he saw her as the witch she could be, fully realized, not holding back, and completely self-trusting.
Sirius didn't seem to require an answer of her. "Anyway, I hope you also know that we're going to be in each other's lives, one way or another, whether that's as Marauders or lovers or friends." He paused. "Obviously, I have a preference for one of those, but regardless, we're too good together to not be a team, Ariadne." He held out his hand.
Ariadne took it. For once, she didn't have anything to say. Sirius was right.