The Corpse That Lived.

Chapter 6:

Dahlia slept late into the morning, her exhaustion and her illness quickly dragging her back to sleep after her shower. Sirius had eaten breakfast and had several cups of tea by the time the quiet girl appeared at the bottom of the stairwell. She looked undeniably better than she had the day before, though her dark hair was incredibly mussed and her eyes were still bleary with sleep.

She looked more like James than ever with her hair all out of sorts like that, and Sirius couldn't help smiling as he remembered how irritated Lily always was when James purposely screwed up his hair. It had been a constant complaint for years... until suddenly one day she'd started to like that messy mop of hair.

"Good morning," Sirius greeted brightly.

"Good morning," Dahlia mumbled quietly, rubbing at her eyes.

"Did you sleep all right?"

"Yes, S—Sirius." She nodded, the politeness of yesterday obviously restored.

"Are you hungry? I'll have Kreacher prepare you breakfast," he offered. Sirius stood and waved for her to follow him into the kitchen, where Kreacher was scrubbing furiously at the sink. Dahlia's eyes widened again, as though she had realized this was not all some strange dream, and Sirius fought the urge to hug the girl. "Sit," he offered, gesturing to the table. "What would you like to eat?"

"It doesn't matter," Dahlia answered, looking like she was in a world of her own.

It did matter, but Sirius wouldn't force it if Dahlia didn't feel ready to speak to him just yet. Today, Sirius would have to explain to her about her parents. It was probably too soon, but he couldn't hold James off forever. His friend was undoubtedly growing impatient, and if Sirius stalled much longer, someone was going to discover the news by accident. It would be hard enough to explain to Dahlia without having a hysterical James and Lily on his hands as well. He would have to keep Dahlia calm today, keep her peaceful and secure until it was time to deliver the news.

Unfortunately, the girl in question was looking quite pale, reminding Sirius of how frail she was. She was still recovering from hypothermia and infection, not to mention the beatings. He had seen her bruised and scared back; some monster must have derived pleasure from hurting his baby. He wanted to grill Dahlia for answers and then slowly torture the perpetrators to death—any hand that raised against Dahlia must fall.

She looked so small as she sat down at the large table, and Sirius wondered if perhaps he ought to feed her and tuck her back in bed, leaving all the talk for later when he was stronger.

Then Sirius remembered the note he had sent James that morning, and the sealed-off fireplace. He heard his best friend's voice shouting from the mirror he had shoved into the sock drawer, and he knew it wasn't fair. Not to James, not to Lily, not even to Dahlia. They were forging some semblance of a fragile trust, and to Dahlia, withholding the truth would be the same as lying. It was imperative to tell her, and tell her quickly, or she might never bring herself to believe that adults could really have her best interests at heart.

As Dahlia sipped at a glass of pumpkin juice, Sirius ordered Kreacher to make tea, toast, eggs, and oatmeal. The little elf bowed deeply and set to work, surprisingly keeping his mouth shut this time as he hurried about his task.

"I think you must have tamed my elf, mate," Sirius grinned at Dahlia. "He muttered at me when I asked him to make my breakfast, but yours..."

Dahlia managed a cheeky smile, which made Sirius debate the wisdom of his plan to tell her the whole truth. He wanted to keep her smiling for just a day longer, but just then his owl flew up to the windowsill and tapped at it. He rose to let the bird in, untying the parchment from its leg. He unrolled it, not at all surprised when he recognized James's handwriting.