Chapter 8: Behind Closed Doors

James Potter had never been able to stomach these kinds of gatherings. The suffocating opulence, the over-polished smiles, the undercurrent of quiet malice that threaded through every exchange—it was a theatre of falsities that made his skin crawl. He'd spent the better part of the evening leaning against the ballroom's gilded walls, sipping his drink and watching the parade of finely dressed purebloods swirl around him with an air of practiced detachment.

He had been trying, and failing, not to glare at Anastasia Gaunt all night. She had floated through the room with that same impenetrable calm she always carried, her arm linked with Tom Riddle's as though they were the king and queen of this whole blasted charade. He hated how composed she looked, how perfectly she fit into this world. It grated at him in a way he couldn't quite articulate, and it only got worse every time Riddle whispered something in her ear that made her lips twitch in the faintest shadow of a smile.

James had spent the evening looking for cracks in her façade, searching for any sign of what she was really up to. That was why they were here, after all. But so far, he'd found nothing. She was as untouchable as ever. It was the sort of spectacle James despised, and yet, he couldn't help but watch.

From his perch near a shadowed column, James caught sight of Tom Riddle and Anastasia Gaunt. The pair moved through the ballroom like a carefully choreographed performance—him, the picture of calculated charm, and her, the icy queen, a poised mask on her face.

And then James saw it. He saw Riddle lean in close to her, his hand tightening on her arm. Her body stiffened, her mask faltering for just a moment as Riddle's expression darkened. The two exchanged quiet, tense words, and before James could process what was happening, Riddle was leading her out of the ballroom, his grip firm and unyielding.

James's heart sped up, his senses sharpening. This was it. Their moment. Their chance to see what lay behind the perfect veneer these people wore like armor. He set his goblet down on a nearby table and scanned the edges of the room until his eyes landed on Sirius.

His best friend was standing near one of the windows, half-concealed by the heavy emerald drapes, his arms crossed and his expression brooding. James didn't blame him for staying out of sight. Walburga and Orion Black were in attendance, and Sirius had made it very clear he wasn't up for any kind of confrontation tonight. Still, James needed him now.

He didn't hesitate. He turned on his heel, scanning the edges of the room until he spotted Sirius, half-hidden near a column, his jaw tight as he watched his parents from a distance.

"Oi," James hissed, grabbing Sirius's arm. Sirius flinched, his gray eyes snapping to James with a flash of irritation.

"What?" Sirius muttered.

"Riddle just dragged Gaunt out of here. Let's go."

Sirius's face darkened, and for a moment, James saw the flicker of guilt that always crept into his expression when it came to his cousin. Without another word, they moved, weaving through the crowd and slipping out into the hallway.

Once clear of the crowd, James tugged the invisibility cloak from his pocket and threw it over both of them. Together, they followed the sound of Tom's voice, trailing him and Anastasia at a safe distance. The hallways of the Riddle Estate were vast, the flickering sconces casting long shadows, but James's sharp ears caught snippets of their conversation, the rising tension in their voices.

They stopped outside a large wooden door—the library. Tom shoved it open, pulling Anastasia in behind him before closing it with a resounding thud. James and Sirius slipped in silently just before it latched, keeping to the shadows at the edge of the room, their breaths shallow beneath the cloak as they crouched near a shelf. The scene unfolded before them, and James felt a twist of unease in his gut. Tom stood close to Anastasia, his towering presence amplified by the low light. His voice was low, but it carried through the room like a knife.

James and Sirius crouched low under the Invisibility Cloak, their heart pounding so loudly in their chest they thought it might betray them. Their breath were shallow, their hearts thundering in their chest as they strained to catch every word exchanged between Anastasia Gaunt and Tom Riddle.

They listened as the conversation unfolded, Riddle's words laced with venom as he accused Anastasia of humiliating him, of making him look weak. James had expected that: Tom's condescending tone, Anastasia's sharp retorts. He had assumed she'd fall into her usual haughty mannerisms, the same biting wit she wielded like a sword against anyone foolish enough to challenge her. But this was different. There was no audience here, no crowd to impress. It wasn't calculated or performative.

"She's holding her own," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"That's my girl," Sirius replied quietly, but his eyebrows were still furrowed, his voice still strained.

The tension in the room was palpable, even from their hidden vantage point. James watched as Riddle's calm façade cracked, his voice rising as he accused Anastasia of crossing boundaries, of challenging his authority. Her replies were measured but defiant, her words cutting through the air like a blade. James watched as Anastasia's voice cut through the quiet library like a blade, matching Tom's venom with her own steel. She didn't back down, even as his tone grew colder, his words more dangerous. She stood her ground, her defiance a stark contrast to the icy composure he'd always associated with her. She was challenging him.

This wasn't the Anastasia Gaunt he thought he knew.

For years, he'd painted her in his mind as a willing player in this world, an ice queen who revelled in her place within it. She was manipulative, cruel, a perfect Slytherin. Someone who thrived on power and wielded it as easily as Tom Riddle himself. But now, as he watched her argue with the man who clearly controlled every aspect of her life, he realised how narrow his perception had been.

"Didn't think she had it in her," James muttered under his breath, the words more to himself than Sirius.

Sirius didn't respond. His eyes were glued to the scene before them, his face a mask of fury and something James couldn't quite place.

And then, the slap.

The sound echoed through the library, sharp and brutal. James froze, his breath catching in his throat as he saw Anastasia stumble slightly, her hand flying to her cheek. His mind raced to make sense of what he'd just seen, but the world seemed to slow as Riddle stepped closer, tilting her face toward him with a thumb that brushed over the rapidly reddening skin, his voice low and mocking.

Sirius inhaled sharply beneath the cloak, his fists clenching, but James grabbed his arm, shaking his head. They couldn't blow their cover now—not yet. Sirius's jaw tightened, his knuckles white as he forced himself to stay put. They listened as Riddle's voice softened, dripping with mock tenderness as he called Anastasia's face beautiful, that it'd a shame to ruin it. James's stomach twisted, his grip on Sirius's arm tightening as they both listened, helpless and furious.

James felt a knot of anger twist in his stomach, but his thoughts refused to align. Anastasia didn't react the way he thought she would—not with anger, not with some biting remark. She stood there, quiet, her expression carefully neutral.

Anastasia's breath hitched, her former bravado crumpling under Tom's looming anger, but she didn't move, didn't flinch. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, her voice trembling. "It won't happen again."

She apologised, James thought.

She apologised.

James couldn't believe what he was seeing. His mind rejected it, clinging desperately to the image of her he'd built over the years. This wasn't Anastasia. She wouldn't let someone like Riddle strike her, speak to her like that. She was calculating and ruthless, always in control. Always the one with the upper hand.

Tom didn't answer right away, instead, browsing the shelves in silence, the air thickening with tension. After a while, he turned back to Anastasia with a chilling smile. "I forgot to mention, Regulus will soon join our ranks as a Death Eater. It's been decided."

Hidden under the invisibility cloak, Sirius gasped, his fists clenching in anger.

Anastasia's eyes widened, her heart pounding with a mixture of anger and fear. "Tom…" she began, carefully choosing her words. "Regulus is too young. He's not ready for this."

James's blinked, his stomach twisting. Regulus? Her concern was genuine—he could hear it in the subtle tremor of her voice, see it in the way her hands twitched at her sides, clenching into fists as if she were fighting herself as much as Riddle.

This wasn't a calculated move, not a ploy to elevate herself or secure power. This was something else entirely—something far more human. He frowned, shaking his head slightly as if to dislodge the thought. No. She was too ambitious, too manipulative. That's what he'd always believed. That's who she was. He didn't want to believe it. He didn't want to think that he'd been wrong. But Anastasia's voice, sharp and unwavering, cut through the air with a precision that left no room for misinterpretation. She wasn't pleading for herself, but for someone else.

She's not playing a role, he thought, his mind racing. This isn't a game to her.

Tom's eyes narrowed, his expression darkening. "Are you questioning my judgment, Anastasia?"

"No," she said quickly, trying to keep her voice steady. "I'm just concerned. He's still a child. He needs more time."

Tom's anger flared, his hand twitching towards his wand. "And again, you forget your place, Anastasia. Don't mistake me for someone who needs advice. Regulus will join when I say he will."

Anastasia felt her own anger rising, despite her best efforts to stay calm. "Tom, this isn't about me. It's about what's best for Regulus. Please, listen to reason."

"Enough!" Tom roared, drawing his wand. "Silencio!"

In a split second, Anastasia's hand moved on its own, her wand deflecting the spell. She realised her mistake as soon as she did it, knowing that defending herself would only provoke him further.

James felt like his world had turned upside down.

He crouched under the Invisibility Cloak, his heart pounding so loudly in his chest he was certain it would give them away. His hazel eyes were fixed on the scene unfolding before him in the library—every movement, every word, burning itself into his memory. Anastasia Gaunt, the icy, untouchable queen of Slytherin, was standing her ground against Tom Riddle. Her defiance was written across every line of her body, every calculated movement, and yet James could see it—the flicker of fear behind her eyes.

She was fighting back.

It was incomprehensible to James. For years, he had believed she was just like the rest of them: arrogant, complicit, and willing to do whatever it took to secure her place in the world of pureblood supremacy. He had dismissed her as nothing more than another cog in the oppressive machine he hated. And yet, here she was, her voice sharp and defiant, her wand drawn, meeting Riddle's fury head-on.

It wasn't just that she was arguing with him—plenty of people sparred with words in these circles—but she was holding her own. Her magic was precise, controlled, and relentless. Her eyes burned with something James couldn't quite name—was it fear? Anger? Determination? Whatever it was, it didn't fit the image he had crafted of her in his mind. This wasn't the Anastasia he thought he knew.

"She's... she's fighting him," James whispered, his voice barely audible under the cloak. His fingers dug into the fabric, his knuckles white.

"Shut up," Sirius hissed back, though his voice trembled with a mix of fury and disbelief.

Riddle laughed, low and delighted, his words chilling as he goaded her. "Oh, darling," he purred, "you can do better than that."

Tom's eyes gleamed with a lethal smile but she stood her ground, her wand still raised. "I don't want to fight you, Tom."

"Are you sure, my dear?" he taunted, his voice dripping with venom. "But you do it so well."

Before she could respond, he cast another spell, and she deflected it, firing back with a precise "Stupefy" that he dodged easily. Their wands clashed in a flurry of spells, the air crackling with magic. Anastasia moved with a deadly grace, her raw talent evident in every spell she cast.

What followed was a duel unlike anything James had ever seen. Spells cracked and sizzled in the air, their force rattling the shelves and extinguishing candles. Anastasia held her own, her movements precise and controlled, but Riddle was relentless, his attacks growing more vicious with every passing moment. He seemed... elated, his voice filled with a twisted sort of admiration.

Sirius's breathing grew heavier beside James as the fight raged on. Finally, Anastasia struck him across the cheek with a well-aimed Diffindo, drawing blood. Riddle laughed, his smile wide and feral as he wiped the blood away.

"Is that all you've got, dear?" he taunted, his voice filled with dark amusement. "Come on, Anastasia. Show me what you're really capable of."

"Stop this, Tom!" she shouted, her voice breaking slightly. "I don't want to fight you!"

"Then submit," he replied, his smile widening as he sent a particularly vicious curse her way.

James couldn't tear his eyes away. The sharp crack of magic echoed through the library as Anastasia deflected another one of Riddle's spells, her jaw set, her movements fluid. And for a moment, James thought she might even win. Her determination was undeniable, but so was the imbalance of power. Riddle wasn't just skilled—he was sadistic. He wasn't fighting to make a point; he was fighting to break her.

Then came the Cruciatus Curse.

James's stomach turned as Anastasia crumpled to the ground, her body writhing in pain. He saw Sirius tense beside him, heard his sharp intake of breath, but James couldn't move. His eyes were glued to her, his mind screaming at him to do something, anything, but his body refused to obey.

This was the girl he'd accused of ambition, of scheming, of cold indifference. This was the girl he'd dismissed as nothing more than a cruel opportunist. And here she was, suffering at the hands of a man he now realised she feared more than anyone else.

You're such a bloody fool, he thought, the weight of his own stupidity crashing down on him.

She screamed, her body convulsing as pain ripped through her. Tom watched with a cruel satisfaction, his eyes alight with sadistic pleasure. After what felt like an eternity, he lifted the curse, and Anastasia lay gasping on the floor.

From beneath the invisibility cloak, James and Sirius watched, their breath caught in their throats as the scene unfolded before them with brutal clarity. James's hands clenched the edges of the cloak tightly, his knuckles white, while Sirius's entire body was taut, his fists trembling at his sides. Neither of them dared to move, but the tension between them was palpable—anger, disgust, and helplessness boiling just beneath the surface.

When Tom pulled Anastasia to her feet, gripping her arm with such force that they could see the strain in her posture, Sirius let out a low, barely audible growl. James shot him a warning glance, but his own jaw was clenched so tightly he thought it might crack.

"You belong to me, Anastasia. Never forget that," Tom hissed, his voice cold and deliberate.

Then, with a sharp, brutal motion, he struck her across the face.

The sound of the impact echoed in the silent library, and Anastasia crumpled to the ground, her hair falling in a dark curtain over her face. Sirius's breath hitched audibly, and James felt the tremor of fury ripple through him. James gritted his teeth, his hands clenching into fists. He wanted to leap out from under the cloak, to grab his wand and hex Riddle into oblivion, but he couldn't move. He couldn't breathe. All he could do was watch as Riddle loomed over her, his hand wrapping around her neck with a twisted mix of affection and violence.

"Bastard," Sirius muttered under his breath, his voice barely above a whisper but shaking with rage.

James grabbed his arm, gripping it hard enough to leave marks, his own hands trembling with the effort to keep them both in check. "Don't," James whispered urgently. His voice was tight, strained, as though he were holding back the scream clawing at his throat. "If you go out there now, forget about helping her, it'll be over for all of us."

Sirius's jaw worked furiously, his teeth grinding as his fists trembled with the urge to strike something, anything. He stared at Anastasia, lying motionless on the ground, the stark redness of her cheek standing out against her pale skin. "We can't just—just sit here!" he hissed.

James's grip on his arm tightened, his voice dropping to a low, frantic whisper. "Do you think I want to? Do you think I don't want to—" He broke off, shaking his head as he fought to steady himself. "But we can't. Not yet. You know we can't."

Sirius closed his eyes for a moment, his breath coming in harsh, uneven bursts. He turned his face away, his hands shaking as he shoved them under his arms to keep himself from lunging out from under the cloak. When he opened his eyes again, they were burning, his gaze fixed on Anastasia.

"She's not going to make it," Sirius said hoarsely, his voice raw with helplessness. "Not like this. He's going to kill her."

James swallowed hard, his throat dry. "I don't think he's the type to let go," he said quietly.

They both fell silent as Tom leaned down again, speaking to Anastasia in a low voice that neither of them could hear clearly. The tension in the room was suffocating, and Sirius felt like he might explode from the sheer helplessness of it. He hated this—hated Tom, hated the entire situation—but he couldn't let his emotions get the better of him. Not now.

Tom lifted her again, pinning her against the wall with his hand around her neck. His voice turned sickeningly sweet as he stroked her hair back with affection. "See?," he whispered. "You are my match in every way."

Anastasia's eyes filled with tears, but she forced herself to stay composed. "Tom, please," she said, her voice breaking. "Let's stop."

James barely registered Sirius's quiet curses beside him, too focused on the horror playing out before him. Riddle's words dripped with mockery and possession, his touch shifting between cruel and tender in a way that made James's skin crawl. Then, Tom leaned down and forced a bruising kiss on her, the final insult, a declaration of dominance that made James want to retch.

"Not just yet." Tom smiled. His hands roamed her body, pulling at her dress and slipping beneath the fabric. He unzipped his trousers, his breath hot against her skin as he pulled her underwear down. She felt his weight pressing against her, and she closed her eyes, trying to block out the horror of what was happening.

Sirius and James paled instantly. "I'm gonna be sick." James breathed out, looking away. James felt his stomach twist with guilt, shame flooding him as the truth settled over him like a weight he couldn't shake. Anastasia Gaunt was many things—sharp, ambitious, a nightmare to deal with—but she was also human. And no one, no matter how cunning, deserved what he'd just witnessed.

When Tom was done, he dressed himself with a satisfied smile, straightening his suit. "Clean yourself up before you return," he said coldly, giving her one last look of contempt before leaving the room.

The door clicked shut behind Tom, his footsteps fading into the distance, leaving only silence in his wake. For a long moment, Anastasia didn't move. She stood frozen, her chest rising and falling as though the air in the room had grown too thin to breathe. And then, slowly, as though the weight of her situation finally settled over her shoulders, her knees buckled, and she crumpled to the ground.

James and Sirius watched from their hiding place beneath the invisibility cloak, their breaths shallow, their bodies rigid. Neither of them spoke or even exchanged a glance, both transfixed by the scene unfolding before them.

Anastasia's hands trembled as she braced herself against the cold stone floor, her body heaving with uneven breaths. And then, to their shock, she let out a harsh, bitter laugh. The sound was sharp, almost unhinged, and it echoed through the empty library like the crack of shattering glass.

The laughter turned into sobs, sudden and overwhelming, as Anastasia buried her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook violently, her cries raw and unrestrained.

Sirius's hand clenched into a fist so tightly beneath the cloak that his nails dug into his palm. His jaw was set, his gray eyes wide and filled with a mix of anger and helplessness. James, beside him, stared, his hazel eyes locked on Anastasia with an expression that could only be described as horrified confusion.

"She's... laughing," James whispered, his voice trembling as he struggled to process what he was seeing. "Why is she laughing?"

Sirius didn't respond, his gaze fixed on his cousin.

Anastasia's sobs broke through again, louder this time, raw with despair. She pounded her fist against the floor, the sound dull but rhythmic, each hit carrying the weight of her frustration and fury.

"Goddammit!" she screamed, her voice cracking. "God fucking dammit!"

James flinched at the sound, the vehemence of it cutting through him like a knife. He turned to Sirius, his voice low and urgent. "We... we should go to her. Sirius, we should do something."

Sirius shook his head, his expression tormented. "We can't. Not now."

"She's falling apart!" James hissed, his voice rising slightly. "How can you just stand there? After what he—"

"And what do you think we can do?" Sirius snapped, his voice harsh but shaking. "What are we supposed to say to her? That we saw? That we watched while she—while he—" Sirius choked on the words, unable to finish the sentence.

James fell silent, the weight of Sirius's words pressing down on him. He turned back to Anastasia, his heart twisting as he watched her fall apart. She had stopped hitting the floor, her hands now limp at her sides as she slumped forward, her body shaking with silent sobs.

But then, slowly, she lifted her head. Her breath hitched as she dragged herself to her feet, her movements shaky but deliberate. She crossed the room, her steps unsteady, and knelt to gather her belongings from the floor. Her bag had spilled open during the earlier struggle, its contents scattered in disarray.

James watched as she began to collect them, her hands trembling only faintly now. One by one, she placed each item back into the bag with meticulous care, her movements steadying as she worked.

"She's..." James trailed off, his voice faint. "She's acting like it's nothing."

"It's not nothing," Sirius muttered, his voice tight. "She's just... hiding it."

When Anastasia stood, her bag now slung over her shoulder, she drew her wand. With a flick, the bruises on her face disappeared, and the redness in her cheek faded into nothingness. Another flick smoothed her hair, rearranging it into its usual elegant style. She brushed the wrinkles from her dress, her appearance slowly transforming back into the picture of perfection she had been in the ballroom. She took a deep breath, her mind resolute. There was only one way to get to Tom, and it wasn't through fighting him. She would become the perfect bride, the embodiment of his twisted fantasies, and she would manipulate his desires to her benefit. She would protect those she loved over herself—Sirius, Regulus, Lucius. She would endure.

"She's masking it," Sirius said quietly, his voice filled with a quiet fury. "Just like she always does."

Anastasia took a deep breath, her expression unreadable as she turned toward the door. Her movements were measured, deliberate, as though she had locked every shred of pain away. She paused for a moment, her hand on the doorknob, before stepping out into the corridor. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving the library in silence once more.

James and Sirius stayed where they were, the air heavy with the weight of what they had just witnessed. Neither of them spoke for a long moment, their minds racing with disbelief and anger.

After a long silence, James's trembling voice broke the quiet. "It's even worse than you thought. He's... he's a monster. How can she—how can she go back in that room? After what he—" James's voice faltered, repulsed by the memory of the assault. "After what he did to her. After he used an Unforgivable Curse on her. His fiancée! After he forced himself on her—"

Sirius ripped the cloak off, his face pale and drawn, his hands shaking as he stood.

"I can't—" he started, his voice breaking. "I can't believe we just stood there."

James rose slowly, his face set in a grim expression. "We couldn't blow our cover, Sirius. You know that."

"That's bullshit!" Sirius snapped, his voice sharp and raw. "She was—she was—" He choked on the words, running a hand through his hair and pacing like a caged animal. "Merlin, James, he tortured her. He hit her. He… Merlin, he assaulted her. And we just watched." His voice cracked on the last word, and he slammed a fist against the edge of a nearby desk, the wood creaking under the force.

James flinched at the sound but didn't try to stop him. He knew better than to say anything yet. Sirius needed to let it out.

"She's my family," Sirius continued, his voice hoarse, his breathing ragged. "She—Goddammit, she protected me. She helped me escape that house, and this is what she's left with? Him?!" He spat the word like venom, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"Sirius," James started, his voice low, "there was nothing we could have—"

"Stop," Sirius snapped, cutting him off sharply. He threw the cloak off them, the shimmering fabric pooling to the floor as he stepped away, pacing like a caged animal. "Don't you dare say there was nothing we could have done. She was being tortured! She was being assaulted! And we just stood there, hiding like bloody cowards!"

James rose to his feet, his jaw tightening. "You think I wanted to do nothing? You think I didn't want to stop it?"

"Then why didn't we?" Sirius shot back, his voice cracking. "Why the hell didn't we, James? What are we even doing here if we're not going to stop something like that?"

James rubbed a hand over his face, his mind spinning as he tried to process everything. "Sirius," he began carefully, "what could we have done? We're in the middle of his estate, surrounded by his people. If we'd interfered—"

"I don't care!" Sirius roared, spinning to face him. His grey eyes were wild, filled with fury and despair. "I would've done something! Anything! Instead, I just stood there, while she was being beaten and humiliated…"

"We didn't have a choice!" James cut in, his voice just as loud now. "What would you have done, Sirius? Run in there with no plan? Gotten yourself killed? Made her situation even worse?"

Sirius let out a sharp, bitter laugh, throwing his hands in the air. "Oh, is that what you're telling yourself, then? Is that what makes it easier for you? Sitting there while she—while she—" His voice cracked, and he slammed a fist against the nearest bookshelf, the thud echoing through the room.

James flinched, but he didn't move. He didn't know what to say. He felt the guilt gnawing at him, twisting his stomach into knots, but Sirius wasn't done.

"Of course you don't care," Sirius said, his voice dropping, low and venomous now. "A part of you liked seeing it, didn't you? Watching her get put in her place. After everything you've said about her, after years of hating her, you must've felt a little bit of satisfaction."

James's eyes widened in shock, the accusation hitting him like a slap. "What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded, his voice rising again. "How can you even say that? Think that?"

"Am I wrong?" Sirius shot back, stepping closer. His eyes were wild, his face inches from James's. "You've called her every name under the sun. You've spent years telling yourself she deserves every bad thing that happens to her."

"Yeah, and maybe I was wrong," James snapped, his voice breaking with emotion. "Maybe I've been wrong this whole bloody time. But don't you dare stand there and say I wanted this. No one deserves what just happened to her. No one."

"Really?" Sirius spat, his fists clenching at his sides. "And it took this for you to figure that out? Watching her get broken in front of you? That's what it took for you to see her as a person?"

James recoiled as if Sirius had hit him. His heart twisted painfully, guilt searing through him in a way he couldn't ignore. He couldn't deny the truth in Sirius's words. He'd spent so long despising Anastasia, so long assuming the worst of her, that it had blinded him to everything else. And now… now he couldn't unsee what had just happened.

"That's not fair," James said softly, his voice hoarse. "That's not—"

"Fair?" Sirius barked, his voice bitter and raw. "Fair? None of this is fair, James. None of it. Not her being stuck here. Not Regulus being dragged into this madness. Not me—" His voice cracked again, and he turned away, running a hand over his face. "Not me being useless. Just standing here, letting it happen."

"You're not thinking straight—"

"I'm thinking perfectly straight!" Sirius interrupted, his voice dropping to a low, trembling growl. "And I'm telling you this is all my fault."

James stared at him, startled. "What are you talking about? How the hell is this your fault?"

"Because I left," Sirius said, his voice trembling. He sank into a nearby chair, burying his face in his hands. "I left, and now she's the one paying for it. Don't you see? If I hadn't run away, maybe—maybe it would've been different."

"That's ridiculous," James said firmly, stepping closer. "You were suffocating in that house. You had to get out."

"And look what happened," Sirius snapped, his voice muffled by his hands. "She's stuck there. She's stuck with them—him. And Regulus—" He let out a shaky breath, his hands dropping to his lap. "Regulus is next. You heard what he said, James. Riddle's going to drag him into this, and I—I can't—" His voice cracked again, and he clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

James hesitated, his heart aching as he watched his best friend unravel. "Sirius," he said softly, crouching in front of him, "this isn't your fault. None of this is your fault."

"Yes, it is," Sirius whispered, his voice hollow. "I couldn't protect Anastasia. I can't protect Regulus. I'm fucking useless."

James shook his head, his voice firm. "Sirius, you're here, aren't you? You care about them—both of them. That's more than your parents ever did."

Sirius laughed bitterly, the sound raw and broken. "Caring doesn't mean shit when I'm sitting on my hands while my cousin is being tortured right in front of me."

James winced, his chest tightening at the memory of Anastasia crumpled on the floor, her defiance still burning even as she trembled under Riddle's cruel hand. He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "None of us could've done anything tonight," he said quietly. "If we'd shown ourselves, we wouldn't have made it out alive. You know that."

"And what about her?" Sirius demanded, turning to face him fully now, his face flushed with anger and despair. "What about Anastasia? What if she doesn't make it out alive? What happens when he finally decides she's not worth the trouble anymore? Are we going to sit back and hide then too?"

James opened his mouth, then closed it again, his thoughts scrambling for something—anything—to say. "I don't know," James said finally, his voice low and almost inaudible. "I don't know, Sirius."

"That's not good enough!" Sirius roared, his voice breaking. He stepped closer, his movements erratic, desperate. "You don't get to stand there and shrug your shoulders, James. Not after what we just saw. Not after watching her—" His voice faltered, and he turned away, raking a hand through his hair. "She's not going to survive this. Not if it keeps going like this."

James swallowed hard, his throat dry, the weight of Sirius's words pressing down on him. "What do you want me to say?" he asked, his voice rising despite himself. "That we can storm in there and save her? That we can take on Tom Riddle and the entire bloody pureblood hierarchy? We can't, Sirius. We're not strong enough. Not yet."

Sirius whirled back around, his eyes blazing. "So what, we wait until she's dead? Until Regulus is branded with that—that thing?" His voice cracked again, and he shook his head, his chest heaving. "Goddammit, James. She's been protecting him. She's been protecting all of them. And we've been sitting on our arses thinking she's the bloody enemy."

James flinched, the words hitting harder than he wanted to admit. Sirius was right. All this time, James had looked at Anastasia and seen only what he wanted to see: an adversary, a manipulator, a reflection of everything he despised about the world she came from. He had never once stopped to question whether there was more to her than that.

"I get it, okay?" James said, his voice tight. "I get it. I was wrong about her. About everything. But what do you want me to do, Sirius? What can we do?"

"Something," Sirius hissed, his voice sharp and trembling. "Anything. Because if we don't, she's going to die in there. And so is Regulus. And I can't—" He stopped, his breathing ragged, his hands shaking at his sides. "I can't watch that happen. Not again. Not to them."

The raw pain in Sirius's voice made James's chest ache. He stepped forward, placing a hand on Sirius's shoulder. "We'll figure this out," he said quietly, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him. "We will. I don't know how yet, but we will."

Sirius shook his head, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "She doesn't deserve this, James. For all the shit we've said about her—she doesn't deserve this."

James nodded, his throat tightening as he met Sirius's gaze. "I know."

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the weight of all they'd seen, all they couldn't unsee. James felt the guilt settle deep in his chest, intertwining with his own helplessness. He had been wrong about Anastasia. He'd been so blinded by his own biases that he hadn't seen the truth until it was laid bare in the most brutal way possible.

And now, he couldn't ignore it. Wouldn't ignore it.

"Then let's do something," Sirius said softly, his voice trembling but resolute. "Before it's too late."