𝗦𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗨𝗦 𝗕𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗞 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗦𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗟𝗘𝗧 𝗕𝗥𝗜𝗗𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗗 𝗨𝗣 𝗔𝗧 𝗝𝗔𝗠𝗘𝗦 𝗣𝗢𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥'𝗦 doorstep on Christmas Eve. The tiniest specks of snow dotted the grass outside, houses were decorated with Christmas lights and festive embellishments. It felt colder and smelled like pure winter.
Bridget was kneeling on the ground, Sirius' head on her lap. The pair was covered in snow, oozing blood from his wounds, and her dress was the only source of morbid colour in a world full of fairy-tale-like, glimmering snow and luminescence.
Scarlet struggled to lean forward with Sirius's head resting in her lap and managed to knock on the Potter's wooden door three times.
"Keep your eyes open, love, just listen to my voice, please" she soothed the damp tears on his cheeks, pushing the sweaty hair out of his face and running an incredibly shaking hand through his raven hair to comfort him.
He trembled vicariously in her arms, one of his hands clutched onto hers so tightly in a way to ease his pain, that Scarlet thought her bones might break. "Scarlet," he whispered out of desperation, but he did not exactly have anything to say.
"You're okay, you're safe now," she kept murmuring sweet things to him. Sirius almost thought it was a dream. A dream where he escaped and will never go back. "I'm right here, darling, you're all right." Her thumb gently ran soothing circles over his knuckles.
