Ariadne's Thread ⭒ h. potter

One More Step

"Ariadne," her father croaked, stepping forward with a spindly hand stretched before him. Ariadne scrambled backwards as best as she could, one arm cradled to her chest as she used her legs to propel her away.

Thirteen years she had heard of her father, and two years with the true knowledge of what he had done, but none of it could compare to the real thing before her. He was a person, she realized. A real, honest-to-Merlin person who had taken lives, twelve lives, maybe more. Had as good as cast the Killing Curse on his best friends. Had whispered into Voldemort's ears himself where to find them.

Ariadne shook with fear. "Please," she whispered, but what she was asking for she did not know. It didn't matter, anyway, for her father was undeterred. Eyes wild and unfocused, he continued moving towards her step by step. Ariadne backed away with each movement, until finally she hit the frame of the bed and could get further no more. He reached for her, then, dirty fingernails bypassing her neck to grip at her shoulders. She held her breath, but her ears picked up what her father's did not.

"Don't!" she yelled desperately. "It's a trap, Harry. Run!"

Sirius stopped her a moment too late, for by the time he moved his filthy hand from her shoulder to press against her mouth, Harry had already come running through the door, Ron and Hermione following closely behind.

The three paused, breathing heavily as Ariadne squirmed in her father's grasp. Even weakened by Azkaban, Ariadne was no match.

"Let her go!" yelled Harry, wand clenched in front of him. Sirius smiled widely in return, mirth revealing sharp canines.

"I had no doubt you'd come for her, Harry," he said, eyes transfixed on the green-eyed mirror of his former friend. "I was certain of it. Your father–" Black choked, his words nearly reverential. "He would have done the same for me." He moved in towards Harry, releasing Ariadne and stepping forward before stopping himself with an involuntary jerk. He turned back slowly, as if suddenly remembering his injured daughter, and ultimately kept his kept his feet firmly planted. Reaching out with his bony fingertips, her father grazed her wounded arm lightly.

Ariadne shuddered away instinctively, holding her breath as she scooted herself towards the right of the bed with her one good arm. Hurt flitted across his waxy features before he removed his hand, though he did not look away.

"Don't touch her!" Harry yelled. His wand was out in front of him and his green eyes flashed dangerously. Ariadne remembered suddenly the sound of Harry's voice that night in his room. He'd said he wanted to kill her father, then. He'd meant it.

Ron, leg broken just above the knee, limped out and placed his body between Black and Harry. "If you want to kill Harry," he said fiercely, "you'll have to kill us too."

"If you kill Harry," Ariadne amended lowly, pushing herself upright with great effort. Scabbers scurried further and further under her cloak as she moved. Her voice wavered only slightly. "I'll kill you myself."

"I'd expect nothing less," Black admired, splitting his cracked lips into a mad grin once more. He eyed her with something like fondness before returning to Harry. "But there will be only one murder here tonight."

"Nice of you to hold yourself back!" shouted Harry, unable even now to keep the sarcasm at bay. He struggled furiously against Ron and Hermione, whose grip on him appeared to be growing tenuous. "Not like last time though, is it? You didn't care for numbers with Pettigrew or those muggles. Or my MUM AND DAD."

With a roar, Harry broke free of Ron and Hermione's restraints and lunged forward with his wand hanging uselessly by his side. They too collapsed on the bed now, Harry clawing and punching and punching madly. Black reached thin arm out and grabbed for Harry's throat, second hand joining now and Ariadne watched has he pressed, fingers tightening. Harry choked, glasses askew.