One Step Ahead Part II | Sirius Black

Chapter 220

Gwen, despite Marlene and Sirius frequently making jokes about her ability to See, was quite comfortable in not knowing the certainty of the future.

Not knowing what was going to happen, not knowing who was wrong, not knowing why the stars sat the way they did in thrones carved out over eons. Not knowing was fine with her, she just came to believe that's why she so often did know.

Things have a way of showing up once you stop looking.

She didn't know how today would go, she wasn't sure how people would react. But she didn't mind. She just let it be.

She smiles when Frank and Alice Longbottom enter Grimmauld Place, though her eyes are occupied with the long crack in the ceiling she had been watching grow longer and longer every time she came to visit.

"Alice, Frank," She greets plainly, "How was Fête des Valentin?"

Silence greets her, and when she reluctantly lowers her chin to meet perplexed eyes, she explains, "Valentines day. Did you enjoy?"

Frank smiles warily, like he's waiting for the Veela to accuse him and his wife again, like she knows secrets he doesn't. She does, but that wasn't new.

"It was good," He says as kindly as he can manage. Alice clears her throat, asking, "And yours, Gwen?"

The Veela of Hogwarts doesn't smile anymore. Her face becomes passive, her eyes flickering to the pixie haired witch that is resting a comforting hand on the swollen bump that houses her baby.

"What side do you sleep on, Alice?"

The Auror's brow furrows in confusion, and Gwen smiles demurely in return, clasping her hands in front of her while she patiently awaits a reply. She already had a guess anyway.

"I," The witch pauses, eyeing the Veela suspiciously before saying quietly, "My left. I sleep on my left."

Gwen turns without mentioning what her answer meant, gesturing for the pair to follow her down the hall. She speaks over her shoulder, "Watch for the objects on the shelves, Alice. Sirius and I haven't gotten around to bringing some of them to a curse breaker."

She pauses at the knickknacks that hang below a surprisingly ornate mirror. Grimmauld Place leaned more gothic, even darkly romantic. But this mirror was gold, smoke stained, but still reflective enough for Gwen to see the slightly puffy nature of her eyes. She hated crying.

Continuing onward, she leads them up the stairs to the first floor, smiling at the peeling wallpaper. If she and Sirius were to stay here, perhaps she could convince him to redecorate. Some maroon paint might be nice, or maybe even a rug the color of the night—

"Miss Whitlock, perhaps we can get along with this."

Gwen smiles as she walks into the library, saying plainly, "Yes, Albus. Your timing of your impatience is rather ironic."

Sirius snorts quietly from the writing desk he's sitting behind, but Gwen knows that he isn't truly amused. The lines around his eyes have deepened with worry, worry that they had shared well into the night at the beach.

But there were likely more than a thousand ways to cook an egg. There had to be at least one more way to kill the wizard that had the drive and capabilities to slaughter them all.

Gwen peers over at where Albus Dumbledore stands quietly by the tall window, looking very much his age. Tired, weary. He wasn't looking forward to this meeting. She wasn't either. She wasn't looking forward to figuring out what it was the headmaster was hiding from her as well. She refrains from making a blunt comment, hearing Dorcas' chiding tone telling her to not be rude despite her best friend's absence.