fatal love

Chapter 51

Sirius had so far spent three days at Grimmauld Place, and it had been, in one word, hellish. Walburga had restarted lessons on the Dark Arts with a new urgency, pushing him and Regulus to learn even more, even faster. It felt like she was preparing for something.

While during her lessons she generally was apathetic, outside of lessons she was outright dismissive and even revolted by him. She had held off on cursing him so far, but found new ways to tortue him, constantly demanding more. Whether his posture was lacking, his manners were poor, his grades weren't impressive, she was making it very clear that he wasn't living up to his role as the Heir.

What was worse was Regulus. He hadn't said a word to Sirius since the incident on the Quidditch Pitch back in Hogwarts. He wouldn't even look at Sirius during lessons or meals. No more supportive smiles or sympathetic glances. Reg had never really done much to help Sirius, and he knew that, but the missing tacit loyalty felt huge.

But now it was Christmas Day. Sirius had only been given some old family heirloom, that was supposed to be an honour, but he didn't care about some old, ornamental bowl that would burn muggles if they touched it. Meanwhile, Regulus had been given new clothes, books, a chess set, and a Snitch with his name engraved in it. Sirius didn't even bother to point out that he'd made it onto the Quidditch Team too. They knew, they just didn't care.

Now, dinner was over, and Sirius was hiding in his room once again. Ten days, he thought, ten more days and you're back at Hogwarts.

He was reading his Fifth Year Potions textbook, because what else was there to do, when he heard shouting coming from downstairs. Confused, he glanced at his watch. It was one in the morning, the whole house should be asleep right now.

His first thought was to ignore it, but he couldn't do that. A tiny voice in his head said it might be Regulus, and what if Walburga was going after him for some reason? As soon as that thought crossed his mind, he couldn't do nothing.

He slipped out of his room, and crept down the stairs. Peering down the hallway, he saw the living room door was open. Regulus wasn't there, but instead, it was Orion and Lucius Malfoy, and Malfoy's robes were tattered and mucky. He was covered in dirt and blood, and was clutching his arm, which was twisted at a gruesome angle and bleeding profusely.

"What the fuck happened?" Orion was yelling.

"I got bloody cursed, what does it look like?" Malfoy hissed, obviously in pain. "I can't go to St Mungo's without being arrested, I need you to find a Healer!"

"How could you let an Auror get to you? I thought you said they wouldn't arrive until twenty minutes after they got called!"

"They weren't Aurors," Malfoy said gravely, through his gritted teeth. "It was Dumbledore's people, I'm sure of it. They got there so soon, they must have heard about us the same time as the Ministry."

"Fuck!" Orion cursed angrily. "He must have people working for him there! Fuck!"

"Look, we'll discuss it at the next meeting," Malfoy snapped. "Now can you get me a bloody Healer before my arm falls off!"

"Merlin, fine! I'll get Walburga, she can fix you up."

Instantly, Sirius turned around and ran back up the stairs and into his room, praying his father didn't see him. Once he was behind the safety of his door, he let out the breath he'd been holding, collapsing onto his bed, heart pounding. Through the walls, he could hear shuffling and muffled voices, as Orion presumably woke up Walburga.

So Dumbledore had people working in the Ministry, most likely in the Aurors. And someone had gotten a good curse at Malfoy. But what had Malfoy been doing? Obviously something, but what? And had he been successful before Dumbledore's people got there?