Where Secrets Abound

Why on earth did Sirius Black have to be so... so... What was the best way to say it? Infuriating was one word. He'd been ignoring Lyra since the beginning of the year, and had recently begun flirting with every girl in the school. Every girl, that is, except for her. Sirius was now the most attractive guy at Hogwarts, and she had been left in the dust. Even the full moon was no reprieve, since the electrical storm had hit on the third day of term. It was less appealing to run with the Marauders when she knew he was one of them.

James had nearly got himself stuck with antlers once or twice in a half-transformation, but Lyra had intervened before he was desperate enough to go to McGonagall. Peter was actually rather good at making the change. Lyra had no idea how Sirius was doing. Nicknames had quickly been assigned to each of them via James: Padfoot, Prongs, and Wormtail. She didn't really care to ask his reasoning on any of those.

Lyra had intended to stay at Hogwarts over the Christmas holidays, but that hope had quickly flown out the window with the arrival of her parents' owl saying that she must attend the party they would be hosting. There would be no getting out of this one. What she hadn't expected - or been informed of until the day of the party - was that Sirius Black was being forced to attend as well.

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Suffice it to say that Sirius was not having a good time. He was shut up in the Malfoy mansion, surrounded by stuffy, grouchy, old blood purists and his slimy little brother, when he should have been running the full moon with Remus and the other Marauders. Instead of actually having an enjoyable holiday, this was shaping up to be the most miserable one yet. Finally, after what felt like hours of being dragged around like a horse in one of those Muggle contests Lovetta had once talked about, Sirius managed to duck outside, hasty to escape any more forcible introductions.

Outside, gardens sprawled as far as the eye could see. Tangles of hedges and magical plants swayed in the biting winter air, and large, glaring statues of Malfoys passed gazed proudly upon it all. Sirius thought it to be a rather gaudy, ridiculous show of wealth, but it still held more appeal than the cramped cage that was Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He wandered down the pathway, enjoying the silence of the night and he clear, crisp breeze of the night, until his walk was interrupted. When he rounded the corner to see a rather secluded gazebo amongst the trees, he found, to his surprise, that he had not been the only one to have the idea to escape the party.

Lyra, dear Lyra Malfoy faced away from him, gazing at the stars. Sirius sauntered up next to her and mimicked her posture, leaning against the perfect, polished railing to her left. Her dress looked lovely under the night sky, he thought to himself. He wholeheartedly expected her to walk away, to notice him and give him a look of disgust before flouncing off to hide away in her room, but she did no such thing. In fact, she didn't even look at him. Sirius wondered for a moment if she had even noticed him at all, until she spoke.

"Well, well, well... Sirius Black. Padfoot." Her voice was like honey, and it didn't sound like her.

"Mau?" he asked, a frown painting his features.

"Ah, he speaks!" she said, turning to face him at last. "I was afraid you'd forgotten how, after all this time. I mean, since you haven't bothered to say a word to me all year."

It was then that Sirius noticed the bottle in her hand.

"Lyra, is that Firewhiskey?" he asked seriously.

She waved off his concern in a lazy manner. "Swiped it from my father's stores... Go back to the party, Black."

Sirius shook his head. "Not until you hand that over. You shouldn't be getting drunk, you're not of age for another two years."