May 1980
I let the strap slip off my shoulder and drop my bag on the worn leather armchair, ignoring the familiar ache tightening in my chest as I look around the empty flat. These missions for the Order are becoming more frequent and more dangerous. So far, I've stayed safe from direct combat, but Sirius has been gone most nights, often returning with new injuries and scars.
I pick up a record tucked between the pages of yesterday's Daily Prophet and frown as I skim over an article about the Anti-Werewolf Law that the Ministry is trying to push through.
Lately, there have been a number of werewolf attacks that have been linked to supporters of You-Know-Who. The Ministry is trying to make it seem like they've everything under control — which is quite the opposite of what they actually have.
The legislation is supposed to make it harder for werewolves to find work and limit their means of travel. It's a load of bullshit. That's what it is.
According to Remus, who's staying with a pack of werewolves up north to gain insight for the Order, the Ministry's hatred for werewolves only makes more and more of them turn towards the dark wizard.
Soft tunes start playing , and I go into the kitchen to make myself a cup of tea.
With Sirius away almost every night, I've acquired an almost ritualistic evening routine. First music and tea to calm down after a long day on my feet. Then a quick shower to wash away the dried blood and grime before I change into my pyjamas and crawl into our bed, the sheets cool and unwelcoming.
Even with him gone, I can still breathe in his scent—a mix of his cologne and the faint hint of his motorcycle’s engine oil. Usually, I hate the smell of oil, but it leaves a small smile on my face as I settle in bed and close my eyes.
Sometime in the middle of the night, I feel the bed shift and a warm, familiar presence slides in behind me. Sirius’s arms wrap around me, his breath warm against my neck. He presses soft kisses to my skin, and I let out a sigh of relief, tension melting away.
“Hey,” he whispers, his voice rough with exhaustion. “Are you awake?”
I blink away the remnants of sleep, my heart skipping a beat at the sound of his voice. “You’re back,” I murmur, reaching up to touch his face. My fingers trace the lines of worry etched into his features. His hair is dishevelled, and there’s a fresh cut on his cheek.
He’s already cleaned it, but the sight of it sends a pang of concern through me.
“Yeah,” he says, pulling me closer, the exhaustion evident in his movements. “We had a close one tonight. Almost lost Peter.”
My heart clenches at his words, the fear I’ve been trying to suppress bubbling to the surface. “But you’re all okay?” I ask, my voice trembling slightly.
“We’re fine. Just a bit shaken.” He nods, his hand moving to stroke my hair, his touch soothing. “Sorry I'm home so late.”
“Tell me what happened.” I sit up and turn on the light, needing to see him, to check for any more injuries. “Lift your shirt.”
He hesitates before complying, wincing as I run my fingers over a large bruise on his side. “We were outnumbered. They must’ve been alerted.”
“You think there’s a Snitch?” I ask, anxiety threading through my voice.
“I don’t know.” He sighs, his brow furrowing. “But they were twice as many as us. We only got out because Moody blasted the house, trapping the lot inside so we could escape.”
I frown at the thought, my fingers brushing gently over his bruised skin , making him wince again. “You’re hurt.”
“I need to tell you something,” he says through gritted teeth, the pain evident in his eyes.
YOU ARE READING
𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 ♡ Sirius Black
FanfictionBOOK 2 ♡ Twelve years ago, Ellie lost everything. Now that Sirius has escaped from Azkaban, she's afraid to lose it all again. Sequel to You Had Me.
