One Step Ahead part I | Sirius Black

Chapter 192

{{another update because I can't resist!}}

Sirius never liked Bellatrix, never believed a word she had to say.

Narcissa had been meek during childhood, subdued and easily persuaded by her vile sister. And once Narcissa had been wed to Lucius Malfoy, a night that Sirius knew she regretted, Bellatrix had only gotten nastier. Jealousy was one thing, but envy...envy poisoned people. Rotted out their insides until their faces reflected the hateful things that they wished.

Even though she loved her sister, Bellatrix Lestrange would always envy her. Because Rudolphus was the only person that would accept her as a bride, the only person crazy enough to tolerate her.

And though she was cruel, the cruelest person he'd met, her ruling characteristic was her slyness. She was a liar. She'd always been a liar.

But this time, Sirius believes her, believes what his cousin is saying.

"What?" He finally asks, the sounds of screaming and crying fading to nothing as he focuses on the face before him. A face covered in scars and lines that aged her beyond her years. A face that hinted at the blood they shared.

A face Sirius hated.

"You heard me, cousin," She says, her voice laced with mock sympathy as she pouts. "Poor Auntie and Uncle Black. Dead without their children by their side. I'm surprised you haven't heard the rumors!"

Sirius grips his wand tighter, his palms hot from the tension of his knuckles, dirt blurring his vision as sweat drips from his hair. Merlin, he was tired. He wanted to rest. But Bellatrix has his attention, and he can't ignore her when she says, "Your father was always a selfish man. You thought he'd die without forcing your mummy along? Pity, truly. Wallburga wasn't even ill."

He feels a pang of something unnamable, something that leaves him feeling hollow and cold despite the heat from the house on fire behind them. He wants to leave, he wants to rest. He wants to not feel. He doesn't want to feel anything about his parents death. He wants Gwen.

Gwen.

His eyes refocus, and as if the evil witch knows, she grins, peering over his shoulder while she muses, "I could've sworn Antonin—"

Sirius raises his wand, his face twisted in pain as he fires a wordless curse at Bellatrix Lestrange. She laughs as she deflects it, though he spies the tiniest crack in her armor. He would kill her. He would kill anyone that even came close to the Veela.

It was written across his face.

Bellatrix smiles however, her wand raised as she says simply, "Cousin."

And then she laughs, her cackles ringing in his ears as a dark cloud swirls around her until he can't see her anymore. When the smoke disappeares, she's gone, leaving him to whirl around and find his Veela.

He jogs through the smoke, grimaces at the sight of bodies laying beneath sinking homes and fires raging in the ones still standing. He hopes they saved enough people. He hopes he did enough. The screams have died out, evidently the death eaters retreating with the likes of his insane cousin. She was likely the ring leader, though Sirius doubts Lucius Malfoy would tolerate that for long.

He sees Marlene McKinnon helping a wounded child in the distance, smiles slightly when Dorcas runs up behind with a bag and a sympathetic smile on her face. He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees Peter talking with Alastor, Frank and Alice hugging close by. Maybe they were finished. Maybe they'd gotten there and time, saved enough lives. As many as they could.

And then finally he sees her, standing by herself yards away from with an exhilarated smile on her face. Her eyes are bright, the color the sky should be, would be if not for the lingering cloud in the shape of a skull and snake.

It's over. They did it. And while there was death in the air, there was sorrow. There was sweat, beating hearts, adrenaline induced smiles and laughs. Her hair is streaked with mud, her cheeks rosy and shiny with sweat. She was beautiful.

Sirius starts to walk towards her, he needs her. He needs to tell someone about the numbness in his chest, the reluctant emotions he's feeling.

His parents are dead. And he needs to tell someone who will understand. Someone who can keep secrets. She looks so strong, so stoic and invincible. He craves to be near her, because she makes him feel invincible too. He starts walking, grows a few yards closer.

Close.

If only he were. If only he wasn't so far away.

Just as he goes to walk around smoldering debris, just as he gets past the last thing blocking him from her, that familiar black smoke reappears. Though this time it isn't death eaters leaving.

It's death eaters coming back, returning to finish off the job.

Sirius hears chaos erupt around him once again, but he doesn't see it. He doesn't see Marlene McKinnon or Dorcas Meadows fighting death eaters by the child they were trying to help, he doesn't see Alice and Frank dodging curses from a masked wizard, or Alastor Moody and Peter rushing to help out a group of struggling Order members.

He sees her.

He sees him.

Antonin Dolohov doesn't even look at the Veela when he steps free from the black mist, his face free of the awful masks, his body clad with familiar black robes.

He only has eyes for Sirius Black.

A knowing smile worms it's way onto the death eater's face, the smile that is deathly charming, and then he's turning, he's spinning away from Sirius and facing the being that is too focused on saving innocent lives that she isn't considering her own.

And Sirius hears it, hears Antonin Dolohov's voice from, the warning shouting at his mind painfully. He should have listened. He should've killed the fucker when he had the chance.

If I can't have you, no one can.

He's running, sprinting and dodging flying curses while his mouth opens to shout, to warn her. He's trying to warn her, he's trying to get to her. But she's too far. He could count on one hand the number of times she'd been surprised, when she hadn't seen things he couldn't. And Gwenyth Whitlock doesn't see it coming, doesn't see the figure approaching her as she stands and whirls around for her next fight.

She perfectly jinxes one death eater, knocking them out before turning and finally laying eyes on Antonin. The death eater that was so disgusted by her, so enraptured by her, so possessive of something he swore to hate. Because he wanted what he couldn't have, wanted the Veela that even the Junior death eaters at Hogwarts couldn't resist.

Having her was having power.

She raises her wand, face impassive despite the danger. But she's too late. Sirius is too late. He'd been wrong. Bellatrix wasn't the most cruel person he'd ever met.

She wasn't even close.

Sirius stares in horror, lips parted in a voiceless cry as buildings and people blur in his peripheral vision. Faster. He needs to run faster. He can't.

He's forced to watch.

A purple, flame like curse sprouts from the end of Antonin Dolohov's wand, flies forwards faster than he can blink, and slashes straight through Gwen.

Sirius doesn't hear his own scream, doesn't hear the dark curse he shouts, doesn't see it sprout from his wand in a spark of red that just barely misses Antonin Dolohov. He sees the same devilish grin the death eater always had, and then he's gone, leaving Sirius to keep running towards his salvation. His damnation.

His undoing.

{{...sorry...}}