A Circle of Flame- Sirius Black x OC

Chapter 13

"Hey, Reg," Liza rubbed her eyes from where she had stumbled down the stairs of the girl's dormitory. She hadn't meant to fall asleep, but the last several days had been crammed with schoolwork. And a bit of guilt with what she had said to Sirius. Slughorn had given them the week off to let their potions brew to maturity, but Liza didn't have the foggiest idea of what to do once she saw the Gryffindor again. Her pride insisted that she not apologize, but the painful glare she had seen in Sirius's gaze before she stormed away was difficult to forget.

"Where's Myra?"

Regulus blew a stand of hair from his face as he set down his quill. The tip of the black feather was encased in a silver cylinder embossed with sparkling waves. Knowing the Black's need for opulence, she would have bet ten gallons they were real diamonds.

"How would I know?" he puffed sourly, stretching back in his chair, and exposing his pale ankles. Liza had to keep a slight smile from her face. Myra often compared the boy's complexion to that of Professor Bins. "I'm not her keeper."

Sighing through her nose, Liza began backing away towards the entrance to the common room. "Considering she's your friend, I thought you might have an idea." Her gaze caught on the parchment Regulus had been hovering over, now exposed in the green firelight. She frowned at the crude drawings, one of which resembled a child contorted in pain. "What're you—"

The Slytherin instantly swept the paper beneath his elbow, sending her a scathing glare. "None of your business, Liza. Merlin," he shook his head, although Liza noticed he refused to meet her eyes, "you're worse than a Gryffindor."

"Whatever." Liza hesitated, pursing her lips. She was no supporter of dark magic, but she had read several books on the subject. After all, if she wanted to defend herself after graduation, she had figured she would need more than Flitwick's simple charms. And what Regulus was looking at was eerily similar to the diagrams she had studied.

The boy began to shove his things into a pile, not bothering to keep his rolls of parchment from wrinkling and muttering a quick "reparo" when the tip of his quill snapped.

Liza sighed and turned away, knowing she wouldn't get another word out of Regulus for the night. There was a thin tight rope that stretched between interrogating him and showing that she cared. Liza had certainly plummeted from that balance lately.

Taking the dungeon stairs two at a time, Liza tapped the top of her head, shuddering as the Disillusionment Charm trickled into place. She waved a hand in front of her eyes, ensuring that it blended in with the stone wall. One time, she had been caught by Madam Pince in the restricted section for a visible foot. Liza grimaced as the memory of the woman's shrill voice pierced her ears. She was not eager to repeat that experience.

The smell of smoke teased her nostrils as she trotted up the main staircase, wondering where Myra had gone to. It was not quite time for bed and a few students lingered in the corridors, but Liza was thankful that she was able to slink unnoticed. She rather enjoyed watching the world go by around her, without the pressure of coming up with something witty or holding a conversation.

As she ducked her head into the library, Liza let the warmth of the torchlight wash away the chill of the dungeons. The familiar rows of bookcases rose to greet her entrance. A rack of Potions magazines spiraled a few meters beyond. Liza had read each article at least twice.

Turning to her left, she had to stop her jaw from falling open.

Myra was laughing. The dark-skinned girl lifted a delicate hand to cover her lips, which were crinkled to form a series of new lines beside her mouth. Her dimples were painfully obvious as Myra tilted her head to the side, fiddling with her wand. If the sight wasn't already unusual enough, Liza recognized the red hair of Myra's tablemate instantly.