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|| Second Sight : IV : August 3rd, 1996||

Wizarding folk did not understand your work as a Specularri. Most with the gift of Sight failed to be as tenacious and diligent as the training required. But Seers who did were highly sought after by the bereaved, even the Ministry consulted you on mysterious deaths.

The night of the new moon was usually ideal for your work, but when it coincided with the death of Sirius Black, nothing went as expected.

Read this on A03 here!

|| Word Count: 5.3K||

Warnings : Implied drug use

Story Chapters -

PART I - PART II- PART III - PART IV

||Author’s Note|| Though many people love the world of Harry Potter, J K Rowling has been making problematic statements for a long time and I am glad to see people taking her most recent ignorance seriously, as the gross, transphobic, hate speech that it is. There is so much beloved content that contains problematic, dangerous or inappropriate elements. Or, the author sucks. If we don’t learn to accept the good content while learning to acknowledge, highlight, and stand against the problematic content, we are throwing away most of the creative stories in our world. And that’s a shame, I’d rather we reclaim it and make it better. So even though this is Harry Potter fan fiction, this story centers around a non binary reader. It is my hope that anyone feels like they can slip into this story, and be apart. I want to make space for all who are willing to salvage this story. Any trans folks and gender queer folks who are here, reading, as I ramble on- Hi. You are welcome here. Thanks for giving me your time. <3

|| Tag List|| @hogwarts-1d-drarry-stan @srhxpci @loonyclaris

Before you, a large wooden table was dressed with a modest amount of food and refreshments, table candles, and many unfamiliar faces. You weren’t surprised to see them all turn and look at you and Byron, but it didn’t help ease your self consciousness.

“As I was saying,” Alastor grunted, gesturing with a nod of his head for you two to take a seat. You felt Byron push his side against yours anxiously as you scanned the table for an open set of chairs. Along with Alastor there were some other recognizable faces. You were surprised to see Kingsley Shacklebolt, who you’d only ever seen before in the Daily Prophet. There was also Remus and Tonks, a fleet of redheads who you guessed must be a family, a severe, greasy looking man with black robes, and the grounds keeper of Hogwarts.

Tonks and Remus waved you and Byron over, making space for you on the bench they shared with other members. The two of you quickly made your way to sit beside them as Moody continued. “Since our last meeting, Garrick Ollivander has been kidnapped and Amelia Bones has been found dead.”

You widened your eyes, realizing that must have been what the commotion was when last you had visited Asterius. The center of Diagon Alley had been crowded, something had felt off. Byron nudged your side with his elbow, looking worried by your expression.

“Yes, Specularri?” Alastor called towards you, eyebrows raised.

“Oh… I just think I had been passing through Diagon Alley when people noticed he left. There was a crowd in front of his shop.”

“What, taken in broad daylight then?” One of the younger red headed men asked, frowning. “Are they getting that cocky?”

“Yes.” Remus answered quickly, in what you guessed was an attempt to save the group from one of Moody’s rants. “They are. Voldemort’s Ministry sighting has set people in one of two minds. Many are hyper vigilant- bunkering down to stay as safe as possible, but others are already signaling a shift to the dark lord’s allegiance.”

“The Ministry is strained, Bill.” An older red headed man said to who you presumed to be his son. “We’ve got Scrimegor now as Minister, sure, but everyone is paranoid. There’s worry all of these higher ups are loyal to Vold- ‘erm, Voldemort.”

“And many are.” Alastor nodded gravely.

“Should have put you up for Minister, Moody.” Another red headed man said, grinning.

“No emboldened Death Eaters moonlighting as Ministry officials then.” Bill teased, winking at Alastor.

“We continue-“ Moody grunted, a warning glare in his non magical eye, “with the killing of Mrs. Bones. She was widely known to be a very powerful witch, a likely contender for the role of Minister after Fudge’s removal. Someone who could have made Voldemort worry about the strength of his people at the Ministry.”

“So we’re wondering who will be targeted next?” Tonks clarified, eyes narrowing.

“Might not have to do much wondering.” The dark, greasy man uttered, glancing slowly at you and Byron. “If they are as capable as you said, Lupin.”

“And it’s a big if, Severus.” Alastor muttered.

“Oh-“ Byron started, sitting up a bit straighter. “You want us to communicate with this Mrs. Amelia?”

“If she can communicate, we thought she might have some valuable intelligence.” Remus confirmed, nodding to the table.

“A perfect initiation mission for you both.” Moody growled skeptically. “Find her and ask what she may have seen, if she learned anything.”

“Wait-“ you interrupted, turning to look at Remus and Byron. “You told them right? How it went with Karkaroff? That it won’t work unless there is someone present who knew the person well?”

“Yea, especially if they died traumatically…” Byron nodded to what you were saying, playing nervously with the end of his hair. “It can be pretty funky.”

The table watched Remus and Byron exchanged haunted looks.

“What if a relative of hers came in for a session?” Tonks suggested, one eyebrow raised.

“That would be a breach of our privacy guarantees.” you answered sternly.

“So you need someone to come to you who is in full understanding of what we’re doing here at the Order, what we want?” Moody asked irritatedly.

“If that’s what is needed to communicate with the victims of the Dark Lord, and we should expect there will be many more that could provide useful help,” the man Alastor called Severus considered loftily, “then the Order’s secrecy will be compromised. If we must be transparent in these dealings, there is no point in doing them.”

“Well hold on there-” Byron spoke up, glancing at you protectively. “Everyone just hold their hippogriffs for a second here… We can try to reach her on our own and see if anything intelligible comes from it. It doesn’t risk anything to try, and then if that doesn’t work we can approach someone that knew Mrs. Amelia well and offer our services. I think what my uh- esteemed colleague here is trying to say is that we must operate under a strict set of laws which protect our client’s personal information and health. If we cannot uphold that, we risk having the privilege of our work taken away. The ministry and St. Mungos sets all this up- you can’t be a registered Specularri without it and we’re more valuable to you being mindful of those laws, even if it doesn’t work perfectly for the Order, than being careless and ending up incarcerated.”

The anxious pattering of your heart calmed at Byron’s words. How could he be so goofy and timid one second and then come up with something like that to say? Underneath the table you gave his knee a gentle squeeze in appreciation.

“Her niece attends Hogwarts.” Severus suggested flatly. “Perhaps someone could reach out to Amelia’s brother, Edgar.”

“Right.” Alastor nodded to the group. “Then that’ll be the plan. You two try to contact Amelia, and if it doesn’t work we will reach out to Edgar Bones.”

You felt your face grow hot as you felt Kingsley Shacklebolt’s eyes land on you. You and Byron nodded to the table, even as your stomach sank. It felt wrong to call upon the dead in this way, and it seemed that the Order wasn’t going to stop asking. You felt Byron squeeze your hand as several Order members stood from their places, stretching and walking around the kitchen.

“Guess it’s break.” Byron said, shifting to pull something out from his robes. “I brought you something.”

Tilting your head in curiosity, you watched as Byron produced a tattered, small book from his pocket. Your confusion deepened as you read the title The Pureblood Directory.

“Have you ever heard of the Sacred 28?” Byron murmured.

“Is it a dubious new ice cream brand?”

“Not quite.” he chuckled. Byron handed the book over to you and leaned back in his chair. “It’s the name family’s are given when they are long time believers in not associating with muggles or muggleborns.”

“Oh, ew.” you said, opening the book. You flipped through the first few pages to find an alphabetical catalog of families. You recognized these names; Abbot, then Avery, and then Black. “Byron! This was so clever of you!” you exclaimed, setting the book on your table to run a finger down the Black family tree that took up two full pages.

You followed generation after generation of Black lineage until you finally found Dorea. You felt your heart skip as your eyes read her name.

“There she is!” Byron breathed, giddily. “Now, who’d be her great nephews?”

“Huh, she married a Potter…” you murmured as you looked at the adjacent family. “I didn’t realize how… connected all these old families are.”

“I don’t like thinkin’ about it.” Byron replied with a shiver.

You saw Tonks approach and quickly pocketed the book into your own robes. They raised a brow at the title before you could fully fit it into your pocket. Even though they were smiling, there was a particular edge to their expression that unsettled you.

“Getting ready for the new moon tonight?” they asked, as Byron greeted them.

“Oh, you can bet your bottom sickle we are.” he hooted, winking at you. You nodded, your chest suddenly felt tight with eagerness to just get home and scry. It was going to be the first new moon you felt confident using Asterius’ candles for. Even though you didn’t fully know what to expect, you couldn’t help but get your hopes up.

“This one over here has got an experiment goin on.” Byron gestured to you with a nod of his head.

“An experiment?” Tonks echoed, their eyes sharpening.

“Oh, just professional curiosities.” you explained cooly, giving Byron a stern glare. “Even after all the training we’ve been through there is much we don’t understand.”

Your heart leapt as you noticed Kingsley approaching, listening in on your conversation.

“Don’t you have to study in the caves of oracles?” Kingsley asked.

“You don’t have to, but it’s one of the best places for it.” you answered.

“There is old magic in those caverns.” Byron contributed sagely.

It looked like Tonks was about to ask you and Byron a question, but before they were able to, Remus called for the meeting to reconvene to discuss the increase in dementor attacks.

When you finally apparated into your kitchen, the sun was already beginning to set. Hastily, you made your way over to the cauldron of Byron’s morning glory tisane and prepared a large cup of it for yourself.

The acrid scent of the tisane was becoming more comforting with every cup. You wrapped your hands around your mug, your breathing becoming slower and deeper as the potion’s warmth spread through your hands. Part of you wanted to gulp a few cups worth as quickly as you could manage, but you knew that with scrying you had to be patient and allow the process to take time and fill space.

Taking a large sip, you glanced over towards your kitchen window sill to find a new pile of letters, daily prophet issues, and notices. Rolling your eyes, you leaned over to the pile and picked it up, completely ignoring the newspaper as you carded through the envelopes. You didn’t open most of your post these days, it was just too stressful. You were about to toss the pile onto the other side of the table when Solonie’s handwriting caught your eye.

Frowning, you opened the letter to find her nearly indecipherable hand:

Happy new moon,

I wish the very best for your scrying tonight, as always. I am reaching out to you to remind you that your review with the Ministry is coming up soon for your license renewal.

With a groan you tossed the letter away from yourself. The last thing you needed was to go to the Ministry, not when you had Moody telling you how dangerous it was.

Closing your eyes, you let out a deep sigh as you rested the side of your mug against your forehead. It had already been two months since you had met Padfoot and you still had not helped free him. A pang of guilty panic bloomed in your chest at the thought- Padfoot was smart. Whatever had happened to him, he’d managed to keep his wits and spent all his time doing everything he could to map out the Halls, reach out to you, and contextualize where he was. You could tell that he was antsy, eager to be free, and probably losing patience.

But this new moon, something had to give. You poured yourself another cup of the tisane as you considered this, and began to set up the table. It was dark nights like these that were supposed to carry possibility, transformation. Something needed to happen, something that would help you understand how it all worked.

You placed one of Asterius’ candles on to your holder and sat down before your mirror. It had to be tonight. It had to happen.

With a flick of your wrist you swept your wand arm to your side. “Padfoot.” you called aloud in the center of your dim kitchen.

Immediately, white smoke erupted from your wand, followed by a spark. Eagerly you guided the flame to the candle, watching as the fire took to the wick hungrily, fizzing and hissing to life. As smoke swirled, you wrapped your hand around the candle and breathed in deep, looking towards your ceiling for the tall arches of the Halls to appear.

If you had not already been sitting, you would have fallen over backwards. The smoke stung your nose as you breathed in, your face tingled, and your head felt both light and heavy at once. You could feel your heart leap into a frantic pace as it felt like your world tilted behind you, causing you to lean back against your chair, dizzy.

And then, with a blink, your world became darker. The ground beneath your feet was dusty, cool and rocky. Soft, cavernous echoes of wind surrounded you, and large warm hands gently gripped your shoulders.

“You did it.”

With a gasp, you jumped, pivoting towards him. Padfoot’s tall, angular frame stood before you, silhouetted against the shades of dark surrounding you. His hands hovered by your shoulders close enough you could feel the heat of his skin.

You looked down, taking an experimental step against the ground. A mixture of stone and soft, cool moss. You looked up, the actual height of the Halls was breathtaking. The air was heavy with water and dust, like a flooded basement or a forest marsh. A shiver of cold and ecstasy ran through your body.

“I did it…” you breathed, voice shaking.

“Yes-“ Padfoot said gruffly. And suddenly, Padfoot was jerking you into a crushing embrace, one of his hands came to cradle the back of your head, threading his fingertips through your hair, as his other arm wrapped around your lower back.

Startled, you stood there wide eyed as Padfoot pushed his cheek against the side of your head, his hand against your back pushing you up, into him. It was as if his life had depended on it- you thought, wondering self consciously if he could feel how hard your heart was beating against his chest.

But how long has it been? It was easy to joke that Padfoot was touch starved but he probably actually was.

You were surprised to feel your eyes prickle with tears. You were more surprised by the natural way your arms moved to embrace him tightly back.

“Bloody hell.” Padfoot’s voice cracked. “You did, you really, actually did this.”

“Yea.” you replied against his shoulder. You could feel his fingertips push against your skin, knot into your hair. You squeezed your eyes closed, it was a little painful, but not unpleasantly so.

And then something occurred to you. Blanching, you pulled away to look into the shadow of his face as you remarked, “You were exactly where I appeared.”

“Of course-?” Padfoot replied, letting up his grip on you slightly.

“Does that mean you waited for me…?”

“Well, not-“ Padfoot started, flustered. He sighed, his arms falling away from you as he explained. “I wanted to be here.”

“Who knew you were such a sweetheart?” you replied, grateful that the dark hid your insidious grin.

“I’m pretty sure that’s the first thing I told you about myself.” Padfoot countered, his head cocked to one side.

“You would love it if that were true.” you laughed, turning around to get a look at the Halls. Now that you were really there, it felt so much bigger than you guessed.

The Halls reminded you of Delphi, where you had studied. These were far more ornate, but they carried that same gripping sense of opportunity, possibility, old, ancient magic. This place nodded towards something long since past, much like how, deep in the caves of Delphi, you could trace the magic of Pythias from so long ago. Their chairs still hung over fissures of Apollo’s Breath, waiting for prophecy… sitting. Stationary. You’d always been taught to scry in a single, protected space but- you winced as you thought of your last attempt- that wasn’t going to work. You looked down into your hands and saw your wand in one and the candle, still lit, in the other.

Oh, this could really work.

Pocketing your wand, you precariously righted the candle in your hand for fear of it extinguishing. Hot wax had already dripped down your knuckles, your heart leapt, wondering how long it would take to burn through.

“Well,” you started, feeling eager to continue. “Let’s go. Show me where you met me.”

“Right.” Padfoot started, leading you down a set of narrowing Halls.

You took your first steps hesitantly, worried that you’d bump into a chair or a wall that was no longer possible to see, but there was nothing that got in your way, as if you really were fully there. Exhilarated, you began to walk faster.

You could faintly see Padfoot turning to glance back at you every few moments, before he reached out his hand to you with a haggard sigh.

“Take my hand.” he murmured.

“Why?” you asked, stopping.

“Because-“ he growled, reaching over to pry your nearest hand away from the candle. “It's a labyrinth and your bloody candle doesn’t cast light here.”

“Fine- relax!” you stammered, gripping his hand back.

It felt as if you walked for a half an hour in relative silence. You couldn’t imagine keeping your wits if you had been trapped in this place. Though individual Halls had their own character, everything was close to identical. A nauseatingly consistent field of Halls, of ornate pillars reaching high into a sky or ceiling that you could not see.

“We’re nearly there.” Padfoot said, causing you to jump as you were pulled out of your thoughts.

“But this all looks the same as everything else.” you frowned.

“...I know.”

“Okay.” you say, making sure to not sound frustrated or disheartened. You were finally here, but it seemed as if any potential leads you hoped would occur to you by finally making it in were not presenting themselves. “Padfoot…” you started, slowing down.

“What is it?” Padfoot asked, stopping to turn to you. You squeezed your eyes closed, trying to recall it exactly.

“Have you spoken to anything here? Read anything that mentioned the name Perceforest?”

“Perceforest? No. I haven’t met anyone- or anything. I haven’t found anything written.”

You glared at the ground, trying to recall what you were told in your dream. “ And for you, who would reach this boundary, set foot on my threshold, to see the sun in the middle of the night, blazing with bright light, to approach me from below, from above, and worship me from nearby . You are saved from Perceforest this night. ”

“So you moonlight as a poet now?” Padfoot asked, tilting his head.

“I had a dream about this place the other night.” you explained, dropping his hand from yours in half joking frustration. “Something said that to me in the dream.”

Padfoot’s shoulders hunched in focus as he repeated the phrase. “A… boundary? This is a boundary and, and you said saved from this Perceforest bloke, or whatever it is, right? So is this-” Padfoot looked around at the surrounding Halls. “A…. refuge of some kind?”

“I’d been so focused on getting here I hadn’t thought about that dream till now.” you admitted. “But maybe that’s something? I’ll look into it as soon as I can.”

You felt your eyelids strain and tighten before you realized you were squinting because of a light slowly pouring down from a distant Hall. You felt your heart leap into your throat as the light slowly grew.

“Padfoot-” you breathed, nodding behind him. Deftly, Padfoot pivoted in the direction you indicated, his body immediately tensing.

“Bloody fucking hell.” he growled, grabbing your hand in his. “Common then… this again.”

Quietly, Padfoot tugged you in a different direction, keeping his body low. You tried to match his pace, unable to help yourself from continually looking over your shoulder to see if the light was still growing brighter.

“How often does this happen?” you whispered, trying to ignore the feeling of your heartbeat growing heavier, thicker, rattling your ribs.

“I don’t know.” he replied through his teeth. “It can be hard enough remembering when I last spoke with you, how many times I’ve seen you, let alone this.”

At this, you felt a pit of worry and guilt burst in you. Another reason why you couldn’t keep taking so long to help him- the memory thing. Padfoot ducked into another Hall, and then another, clearly trying to make sure he didn’t keep the two of you going in one direction for too long.

“Padfoot-” you breathed, squeezing his hand. “I’m so sorry that it’s been like this.”

“It’s not your fault.” he replied with surprising lightheartedness.

“I wanted it done by now. I wanted you back safe.” your voice grew thick with emotion. You glanced back again, the surrounding Halls dimming once again.

“I know.” Padfoot said, stopping. You bumped into his side, and his arms caught you in another embrace. “I know.” he repeated, pressing his fingertips into the sides of your arms for emphasis. “And if it was in your power, I would be.”

“I think it’s gone.” you said, your chest still rising and falling with the erratic beating of your heart. You looked up into Padfoot’s shadowed face. For a long moment, the two of you beheld each other, blindly.

“Do you know how lucky I am to have your help? Your company?” Padfoot asked into the dark. One of his hands slipped from the side of your arm, tracing lightly up your neck until his hand cupped your jaw. Your skin burned beneath his touch. “You couldn’t, but it’s true.”

You felt as if you were still running, your heart pounding against your chest as if it was desperate to free itself of you. You fought the impulse to lean your head against his hand, your free hand twitching to reach out towards him, to pull him against you and out of this place, when you noticed that the Hall before you opened up uniquely.

Turning, you looked into a wide Vestibule. Padfoot’s hands fell away from you as he followed you into the space. An enormous stone archway stood at its center, with a billowing black curtain hanging from it. The cloth moved of its own accord, as if blown by an non-existent wind.

“What is that?” you breathed, eyes wide.

But before Padfoot could answer, a blinding golden light flooded the Vestibule from an opposite Hall. Wincing and in sudden panic, you turned towards Padfoot, only for your eyes to hungrily sweep over every feature. He was tall, long limbed, with narrow hips and broad shoulders. Thin and lean, his long shaggy black hair unevenly reached down to his mid back. You pulled your gaze up to meet his face, his large, dark eyes, shining impossibly from the sudden light. You felt your heart swell with painful weight as you watched the cadaverous, handsome face of Sirius Black look upon you, shocked, color rising to his cheeks as he beheld you in turn.

Wordless and hyper aware of yourself, frozen in place, you watched as his mouth parted. “Merlin’s beard…” Sirius breathed, aghast. “I’d guessed you were worth looking at, but not this -”

A towering figure, indistinct in its brightness, leapt into the room, pivoted towards Sirius and began to run towards him. Sirius’ eyes widened, filled with fear.

“NO-” he bellowed, his hand found your chest, pushing you away from him with all of his strength.

With a cry, you felt yourself fall back, hitting the ground hard as the candle extinguished. Your back burned as gravel and pavement scraped your spine, the wind knocked out of you, your ears blaring painfully as a car honked its horn, accelerating around you.

Instinctively, you curled up, your knees hugged to your chest as you winced, bracing for impact.

“Hey, HEY!” you heard someone cry out, their feet stepping in front of you. Several other cars swerved around your bodies, honking angrily.

Shaking, you opened your eyes and nearly cried out again as a dark, long limbed figure stood over you, waving cars around you. What it Sirius? Had he somehow come back with you?

“Can you stand?” they asked, voice stern. You blinked, and blinked again. Your eyes stung so badly it was hard to keep them open.

You groaned, pushing yourself onto your knees and finally up onto your trembling legs. Their arm clasped firmly around the small of your waist, helping right you. You pushed your eyes open, jumping a little to see Tonks looking at you worriedly.

“Come on.” they grunt, leading you from the middle of the street.

“What… what are you doing here?” you ask breathlessly.

“What am I doing here? What were you doing walking around in the middle of a street downtown?” Tonks retorts, propping you against the nearest building. “What happened?”

You lean your head against the wall, it felt like you were never going to get enough air to fully recover. Shaking your head, you looked down at the candle still in your hand, its wax had melted and ran all over your hand and arm. You had failed again and left Padfoot- no, Sirius in danger. But it was him. It was Sirius Black, exactly as you’d feared.

“Hey.” Tonks said, snapping their fingers in front of your face. “Talk to me, please.”

You jumped, and looked up at them resentfully. “How did you know I was here?”

“There were complaints sent to the Ministry about someone behaving strangely, wandering around downtown London erratically.”

“I was?” you said, shaken. So you hadn’t fully been there, afterall? You turned your head to look back at the street and flinched- you could still see the Halls superimposed over the city. With a cry, you rubbed your eyes vigorously and looked again. The Halls were still there.

You heard Tonks say your name, worriedly, as you continued to rub your eyes and look around. They stung so badly, a dry, hot pain. Tonks repeated your name, placing their hands on your shoulders. “Let’s get off the street, okay?”

“Right.” you said, accepting their arm. With a nauseating tug, you found yourself staggering into Grimmauld Place. You leaned against the wall upon appearing, your world spinning. Pressing your forehead against the wall, you heard Remus asking if everything was alright. You didn’t focus on Tonks’ answer as you pushed yourself into the bathroom, your head pulsating with every beat of your heart.

Despite all of the other worrying ailments you were going through, the thing that distracted you most were your hands. You couldn’t see anything wrong with them but for some reason they felt strange, like you needed to itch them.

Even here, you could still see the outlines of the Halls. Frustratedly, you rubbed your eyes once more, groaning. It was like you hadn’t drank any of the morning glory tisane, like you had done nothing to protect yourself from the effects of Asterius’ candle. You leaned over the sink counter, taking deep breaths.

“Thank Merlin you’re alright.” Sirius’ voice spoke.

You started, jumping so badly that you hit your head against the corner of the mirrored medicine cabinet hanging over the sink.

“FUCK-” you exclaimed haggardly, pressing your palm to your temple, which throbbed with dull pain. Pulling away from the mirror, you glared into the dim corners of your reflection. “How… How did you find me?”

“I can still see you.” Sirius' voice came, so much clearer than his silhouette. “Faintly, anyway.”

The hair on the back of your neck stood on end as a chill went through you. Perhaps, it was more of a two way street than you’d initially guessed. Stepping back from the mirror, you wiped your eyes again, grimacing. Part of you was glad that he was alright. He. Sirius. The murderer. The death eater.

“Does this space feel familiar to you?” you sneered, unable help yourself as your aches and pains easily transformed to anger.

“What?” he asked, surprised by your tone.

“Stop lying to me.” you hissed, eyes stinging. Your palms slapped the sides of the sink. “I know who you are. I recognized you, Sirius .”

He went quiet. For several beats, your ears strained to capture more than just your panting breath. You didn’t know what was going to happen, how he would react, but you hadn’t expected him to go silent. Maybe that monster found him again?

“So-“ he breathed, voice shaking. “So, you did see me.”

Blood rushed to your head, you had to grip the sides of the sink to keep yourself upright. “You knew?” you hissed, eyes filling with tears. Your face felt hot, color rising to your cheeks. Had you been an idiot? Played this entire time, for months, by this cruel-

“Yes, but please-“ Sirius’ voice sounded higher, panicked. “I knew, I knew that if I told you who I was- who, who I am that you wouldn’t help me-“

You doubled over, bowing before the sink as your stomach clenched as if in a vice. Coughing, you wretched into the sink.

“It was after I remembered Harry.” Sirius continued, his voice going hoarse. “I had to. I needed help, I still do.”

“You’ve lead me along this whole night?” you cough, wiping your mouth with your hand.

“I have to get out of here, for Harry.” Sirius stammered.

Leaning over, you wretched again, body shaking. Coughing hard, you jumped as you heard a gentle knock on the door. Remus called your name, his tone weary.

“I’m going to come in and check on you, alright?” Remus said, slowly opening the door.

“Who was that?” Sirius asked, startled.

Upon entry, Remus immediately rushed to your side, holding your shoulders. “What happened?” he asked, worriedly.

“Remus?” Sirius called anxiously.

“I’m so sorry-“ you breathed, frowning, trying to only concentrate on Remus’ words. You turned on the faucet to wash down your sick.

“Don’t worry about that.” Remus assured, but you couldn’t focus on the rest of what he said, as Sirius began to call out to Remus frantically.

“Moony! Moony? Can- Can he hear me? I’m alive, I’m alright mate- I’m going to come back!”

You winced, face flushing as Sirius called out to Remus with increasing desperation. It was all too much. “SHUT UP, PADFOOT .” you yelled, pivoting back towards the mirror. Sirius went silent immediately.

The air felt thick as a hush came over the room. Minutes may have passed by, but you were too exhausted to notice. Remus’ hands hovered above your shoulders.

“What…” Remus breathed, his eyes flickering from you to the mirror. “What did you just say?”

It felt like your heart had sunken down to your stomach, leaden and cold. Slowly, you turned to look up into Remus’ face, watching as his concern turned into shock, eyes widening.

You slowly reached into your pocket, breaths shaky, as you took hold of your wand. You hadn’t expected to feel scared in Remus’ company, but it had never occurred to you before- was the reason the Order was run out of Grimmauld Place, the reason he and Tonks had seemed like they were mourning when you first met, because they had still been in contact with Sirius? Were they on his side?

“Wait, please…” Remus breathed, keeping his hands against you featherlight. “Are you really- is he alive?”

You felt hollow. Remus seemed to notice as your fear overcame you, his expression turning more desperate as his lips parted, preparing to explain but you wouldn’t hear any of it. With a shudder of your wand, you apparated away from him, from Sirius and Tonks, from Grimmauld Place.

-X-

#second sight #sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black fan fiction #slow burn #harry potter fan fic #sirius black lives #non binary reader #non binary fan fic

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