The Girl Who Lived

Truth

The entire time we ate, I kept my focus on Harry. He could tell I was watching him while he shoved his face with food because he kept shifting uncomfortably.

Bastard. He was a bastard. How dare he speak about me when he had called me selfish so many weeks ago? How dare he?

The entire time we ate, my ears were flooding with roaring- tidal waves of anger rushing through every nerve in my body. My fingers itched to grab a dagger strapped onto my waist- merely to threaten him, nothing more.

Gathering all the coolness in my body, I spun it around the short leash I held my anger on. "I should go call Lisa and Joseph while I have access to the telephone. Harry, will you show me where the phone is?" I lied, gritting my teeth in a sour smile. His fingers went white around his fork.

The blood had left his face too as his darkened eyes flickered to my belt of knives tied to my waist, where the curves of my body went in with the dress.

"Greet them for me, will you Lena?" Sirius asked, chewing and returning to his amusing conversation with Remus.

I stood from the table, putting my hands on the wood, leaning forward to Harry, who was watching my knives rather closely. I turned to Remus, his gaze full of disdain at the words that left my mouth.

There was no other explanation to his hatred for my Muggle parents than the scars on my body. That was reason enough. Sirius had never found out the damage my "parents" had done to me- he would have killed them both and made sure to never ever let a single person lay a hand on me again. That's why Harry still lived with those bastards, the Dursleys- Sirius wasn't aware of the way his godson was treated in that household but if he had...

Harry stood up with clenched fists and led the way out of the kitchen, glancing back to my belt and hands every few moments.

The hall was silent except for the wind flowing through the house and the occasional thumping from upstairs of Moody's wooden leg.

"Have you stared at my wonderful daggers enough or would you like a closer glimpse?" I cooed, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and shoving him into an empty room.

The Black family tapestry.

The green wallpaper was grimmy and riddled with small holes- as if rats had gotten into the paper. It was near dark in this room, a single light flickering upon our arrival. The wind whispered in our trail as I shut the door behind us and shoved Harry. I didn't bother going for my wand- I went straight for a dagger.

My hand was surprisingly steady as I pointed it towards him and his wide eyes, littered with shades of green.

He wasn't afraid- not, not at all. Harry and I, we had never been afraid of each other in any way. We were too much of family- too similar to ever truly hurt each other. But I knew there was not a single ounce of that sibling love I had for him in my eyes.

There was too much of death, dullness but beyond it all, a damn fire.

"Would you like to explain why I'm being held at knife point?" Harry said, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Who in their sane mind had the grand idea of giving you knives?"

His first words to me in weeks. That time seemed lifetimes ago. "We haven't spoken for weeks and this is what you choose to say?" I scoff.

"Would you like me to shower you in compliments? After everything you've done, I'd rather not." After everything I've done? Son of a bitch.

I snarled at his tone- too demeaning. I cut right to the point. "Who had the grand idea of telling my dear godfather and uncle that I'm very close friends with Draco Malfoy?"