One Step Ahead part I | Sirius Black

Chapter 17

Sirius exhales harshly, watching the smoke fill the still air around him.

His heart is heavy in his chest, his fingers tingling. Though that could be from the firewhiskey.

He's on his third cigarette, trying desperately to wipe away the memory of what he'd seen today. Regulus, his only brother. Slumming it with nasty Slytherins, the same Slytherins that called people like Lily Evans a mud blood. It makes him ill, that his name is associated with people that would like to see anyone but pure bloods wiped from existence.

Sirius was the black stain on the white sheet of his families existence. A traitor. A terrible child, a stupid boy. And while he didn't fear that kind of ridicule from a group of weak students dressed in green or his bitch of a mother...it hurt when Regulus wouldn't look at him today. He didn't even stop when Sirius called his name.

His feet dangle over the edge of the tower. Precarious. Dangerous. That's when he felt most alive, when there was the most potential for death. Maybe it was because he'd been suffocated his whole life, held back by evil people and their evil ideals that he was supposed to agree with just because they said so.

But how could he? How could he believe in extermination after he knew the kindness of his werewolf friend, the intelligence of Lily Evans, the mystery of a Ravenclaw Veela.

Veela.

His mind drifts slightly, latching on to pearly hair and icy eyes. He gulps down more firewhiskey, his mouth suddenly dry. His head hangs low as he broods, mulling over his new found appreciation for the girl.

"Sirius?"

He slowly looks over his shoulder. She's here.

"How'd you know?"

Her eyebrows shoot to her hairline in surprise at his slurred speech. She instantly feels nervous, like she should go get James or Remus. But his smile is so sad and his eyes are so unguarded that she can't resist. Because he perplexes her too.

"Know what?" She asks curiously, slowly coming to stand by where he's sitting. He waves off her question, reaching up and tugging at her hand like a child to pull her down. Reluctantly, she takes a seat a foot or so away from him. She'd never seen him drunk before, and certainly had never seen him with such blood shot eyes. She feels a sudden and harsh pang in her heart. He'd been crying.

"Sirius what's—"

"What happened to your mum?" He wonders drunkenly, setting the bottle of whiskey down and bringing the smoldering cigarette to his lips. She blinks at him in surprise. The question hangs in the air between them, tense and heavy. He winces and looks away, realizing what he's said. He quickly mumbles,

"Sorry, I—"

"She was murdered."

She smiles faintly when his grey eyes fly back to her, wide and glinting with unspoken questions. She bet he had lots of them. She did too.

His surprise grows when she reaches for the pack of cigarettes laying between them, grabbing the one from his hand and using it to light her own. She return his cigarette to his limp fingers, saying quietly,

"Killing curse, so it was quick at least. I found her on the beach by my house."

Her blunt words and flat tone are concerning, cripplingly depressing. He watches her as she turns to face the night sky, her face a faint wash of orange from the glowing end of her cigarette. Beautiful, he decides drunkenly. James and Peter were right.

"Why?" He asks softly, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"Not sure. Veela are...Flitwick was nice enough to talk to me about it first year. He guesses that they were being recruited, or asked to serve for that bloody dark wizard. Or just to send a message. I probably won't ever really know."

Sirius flinches at her mentioning of Voldemort, his gaze quickly returning to the sky. The same dark wizard that his parents revered. The same one that Regulus was turning to, worshiping.

She notes his reaction, not sure if goosebumps erupt on her skin from the cold night air or the sight of him distraught. She doesn't know why she says it, or if she should, but her voice is soft when she says,

"I suppose not having a family is better than having one you hate."

He lets out a barking laugh that startles her, his voice bitter when he replies, "I suppose you're right."

He glances at her out of the corner of his eye, pausing briefly as her words fully hit him.

"You don't have any family?"

It's her turn to laugh, though hers sounds truly amused by his question. He watches her being the cigarette she's holding to her lips, wondering if she's been smoking for a long time. She certainly seems like a natural. He nearly asks her, too many questions filling his alcohol addled brain. Maybe that's why they came so easily, because he couldn't be embarrassed by his interest in her.

His heart drops when she turns to him and asks quietly, "Do you?"

Does he have a family. She's curious too, curious if he does consider them family. She was always one that thought blood meant nothing, not when the people that share your blood are so hateful. Abusive.

"James," He finally answers, his throat tight at the weight of her question. "And Remus and Peter."

Gwen smiles faintly and nods, murmuring, "The drama of my ancestry could fill a book that even Remus wouldn't read. The girls are my family now. Marlene and Lily and Dorcas."

He wants to ask her more. He wants to know if she lives alone, if she celebrates the holidays alone. His gut twists and turns at the thought, wondering if he'd ever truly known loneliness in the way that she had. She doesn't seem to mind though, she seems rather resigned. Like it's simple, like her life is simple.

Sirius takes another swig of whiskey, grunting when her tiny hands quickly snatch the bottle away from him. She laughs when his face turns into a pout, his eyes wide and droopy as he watches her stand and put out her cigarette on the stone wall.

"Come on, Black. Puppy eyes won't work on me," She teases, extending a hand to him. He stares at it blankly for a moment, brain fuzzy from the alcohol, his chest lighter. That could be the alcohol too, but he reckons it probably has to do with the words he'd shared with the Veela.

He thinks in that moment he could probably tell her all of his secrets. And she would probably keep them. But he refrains, instead he just takes her hand and pulls himself to his feet.

He sways back and forth, grinning crookedly when she quickly grabs his arm and puts it over her shoulders while rushing out,

"Woah! Okay, big guy. Let's get you to bed,"

He snickers, too drunk to realize that he's leaning far more of his weight on her than his own feet as they begin walking down the Astronomy tower stairs.

And too drunk to see the faint tinge of pink dusting her cheeks.