Sirius' Guide to Pissing off Parents

Aftermath

"Where are we?" Freia asks, staring around at the dark fields in confusion.

Sirius begins to walk, and she follows him, almost at a jog due to his haste.

"Sorry, it was the first place I thought of," he says, rubbing a hand through his hair in agitation. "It's the Potter Manor."

She nods, absently, even though he isn't looking at her. She feels clammy, like she needs a shower and to crawl between fresh sheets.

Sirius looks worse for wear, the way he walks is jerky and hurried, grey eyes glancing around frantically like he expects someone to jump out at any moment.

The house rises up out of the gloom in the distance and Freia can hear Sirius sigh at the sight of it. It looks friendly, even at night-time; there are lights on and smoke escaping one of the chimneys – it's a big house, with wide stone steps and an overgrown formal garden. There are trees that are likely covered in blossom in spring and flowers that must have been chosen specifically because they flower all year.

The Manor itself is almost castle-like, with battlements and rounded tower-esq rooms. In fact, it feels almost like a mini, more intimate, version of Hogwarts.

The wards ripple as they pass through them and ring in the direction of the house. Sirius doesn't pause, in fact only increasing in speed as the door opens slightly and Fleamont Potter pokes his head around the door.

Freia stays a little further behind as Sirius races up the steps two at a time and launches himself at Fleamont. Fleamont staggers as Sirius' taller figure crashes into him, but stays standing, instantly gripping back.

Freia moves forward tentatively, feeling very much like an intruder and even more like she just wants to curl into a ball and sob. She wishes she wasn't still wearing her dress – it's too thin and exposed, causing her to shiver from the cold.

James comes outside then and upon seeing Sirius, pulls him tight. Sirius' hands are clenched into fists but that doesn't stop them from shaking, arms pinned to his side in James' embrace.

"What's wrong?" He asks, sounding like he's ready to spring into action wherever Sirius directs him.

"Nothing," Sirius says, voice low and hollow.

James looks up then and fixes Freia with a stern look.

"Freia?"

Freia feels a little trapped, unsure whether she should say or not but with both Fleamont and James giving her matching stares she can't help but tell them.

"They were there. His – Walburga and Cygnus. At the Christmas party."

James and Fleamont immediately look back to Sirius, James pulling away from the hug to look him up and down.

"Are you hurt? Did they do anything?" James sounds gruff, like there's a lump concealed in the back of his throat.

"Don't crowd him, James," Fleamont advises softly.

Sirius shakes his head. "No," he says, "just my arm, but it's – "

James is already reaching for his wrist and inspecting the spot where his suit jacket rides up. Even in the darkness Freia can make out the dark outline of dried blood.

Her feet move of her own accord, making her stumble forwards and stare at the obvious puncture wounds near his wrist.

"What?" She says abruptly, "you're hurt? Why didn't you – are you okay? Oh Merlin, Sirius, why'd you send me away I could have done something."

Fleamont's hand lands on her shoulder and she flinches away. His eyes widen, and he moves his arm back to his side.

"Freia it's fine. It's just fingernails," Sirius says, in a way that is meant to be reassuring but only stands to make Freia feel more enraged.