Shown Like the Sun

Chapter 12

Do your worst get it all off your chest
I'll hold my breath and swallow

--Shakespears Sister

***

The pendant, carried by its weight, slowly slipped into the hollow of her collarbone as Althea lay across her bed--her arms at her sides, the muscles of her limbs unwilling to move. Her mouth curved into severe frown as she stared at the ceiling, recounting the night's events and her stupidity for allowing it to continue until the encounter on the beach. He was so wonderful this evening. How long had he spent preparing dinner? Right, the majority of it was inedible, but still, he tried...tried for you, she thought and closed her eyes. The image of Sirius--clean-shaven and smiling at the sight of her--entered her mind. Inhaling a slow breath through her nostrils, she could almost smell his soap--a curious feeling of safety and comfort enveloped her. Althea quickly opened her eyes and chided herself for being ridiculous. He did try, though. This entire time--the flowers, the letters, and tonight...a dinner date? When was the last time you had a proper date? Althea raised an eyebrow as she attempted to remember. It had been at least a year. He loves you. After everything, after all these years, after knowing...he loves you.

"I'm the only woman that will bloody talk to him," she remarked aloud and narrowed her eyes slightly. "He hasn't seen a proper pair of tits in ages."

Still....

"He doesn't know everything," she murmured and clenched her hands into weak fists.

Althea's stomach instinctively convulsed as she thought of her life after Prudence's adoption. Sirius knew of her time as a Relief Healer in Romania and Afina's arrival into Althea's life; however, the other details of her life were deliberately ambiguous. When asked, she would tell, or at least try to tell, but--to Althea (and with Remus' insistence)--Sirius did not need to know everything. He'll learn eventually, she thought, placing her hand over her abdomen, somehow, he'll learn. She remembered the look of betrayal upon Sirius' face, as he understood that Prudence was alive and was not his. Would he give her that same look upon hearing the truth? Althea took a deep gulp, as she knew it was so, but she had to tell him. What had she to lose? They were not together, and if she succumbed to a relationship, the fallout from the believed lies would be insurmountable. She had to tell him.

Althea stood from her bed and walked to her nightstand. Opening the drawer, she grasped her wand and placed it in the disguised pocket of her skirt. As she turned to walk toward the door, she caught sight of herself in the mirror and paused. Her gaze fell upon the beautiful necklace around her neck--the diamond's sparkle seemingly emphasized in the moonlight. She blinked rapidly as she thought--for a brief moment--she looked different, younger. Had she briefly witnessed Sirius' vision of herself? Althea shook her head at the absurd notion and insisted that the light had played tricks with her eyes. The light in this house can be very strange, she thought, sweeping the hair away from her face with an exaggerated movement. Very strange, indeed. As she lowered her hand, it hesitated at the necklace--her fingers curled to touch the diamond pendant, but she stopped herself from doing so. She did not dare touch the necklace--she felt unworthy to touch such a pure memory...the last reminder of his Althea. She let her hand fall to her side.

"You will change in his mind forever," she whispered ruefully and turned her gaze away from her reflection.

Inhaling a deep breath, she opened her bedroom door and stepped out into the hall. Slowly, anxiously, she exhaled as her eyes scanned her empty, dimly lit surroundings--Sirius was still outside. Patting her wand pocket, she walked forward toward the staircase and, in her mind, she attempted to prepare for the upcoming conversation. Where could I begin for him understand the things I have done? Should I begin the night I was tortured? No, no, it wouldn't explain Oswin. The day of the book signing, then? She killed my father--he must remember that night I learnt of his death...that odious letter...the Daily Prophet. Yes, I'll start there...with my father. Suddenly, a door slammed shut--her heart skipped--and she listened to Sirius' deliberate footsteps across the wooden floor below. Althea stopped at the top of the staircase and grasped for the railing--her eyes locked on Sirius as he walked across the entrance hall. Sirius paused at the bottom of the staircase, looked up, and sighed with frustration. Althea caught her breath. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came from her tightened throat.

"Right," Sirius said and bit the inside of his cheek. He shook his head and walked toward her father's study.

Althea felt a sudden queasiness and lightly massaged her stomach with a sweaty hand. Why tell him? Just apologize and try to salvage some enjoyment in the evening. Honestly, what good will come of telling him, she wondered as she descended the staircase. Indeed, what good would come of telling Sirius? There was not a true threat of him discovering the truth about her life as Derry. She reckoned that Sirius would have eventually discovered the truth of Prudence's existence--as the years would pass, it would have been difficult to hide her existence. No, she thought, walking toward her father's study, he'll discover it. If I tell him, I could help him. I understand Azkaban...the despair...that irrational anger that consumed me. Caged and subhuman--left to die, to be forgotten, to be nothing. Althea paused before she entered her father's study. Closing her eyes, she summoned her nerve. You understand Azkaban. You can help him.

Althea opened her eyes and stepped forward into her father's study. The room was rather dark, except for the single gas lamp illuminating the end table beside the sofa. Sirius sat on the sofa, his expression grim as he looked ahead of him out the large windows.

"I thought you didn't drink," he remarked, stroking his glass of brandy.

"I don't," she replied, stepping closer to the sofa. "Ugh, I wouldn't drink that. I reckon that brandy is as old as I am...or older."

Sirius lifted the glass to his lips. "I thought I knew you," he replied, and took a sip of brandy--he quickly pulled a face.

"Please, don't drink that," she implored, stepping forward to retrieve the glass from him.

Sirius defiantly downed the glass. "I thought I knew you," he repeated hoarsely, stroking the side of the glass with his thumb. "I reckon I'm a fool."

"You're not a fool," she replied and sat next to him. "I've changed...greatly."

Sirius rolled his eyes as he placed the glass on the end table. "Right," he remarked and turned toward her. He eyed her for a moment before speaking, "You look as if you have something to tell me. What are you about to tell me now? Prudence is really Moony's? Oh, how about Alexander Star's? No, that's not it.... You had an affair with that loathsome Pettigrew all those years ago? At that Christmas party?" He mockingly rubbed his chin as if deep in thought and sprang forward, pleased with himself at his deduction. "Oh, I know, you shagged my brother--"

"Be reasonable, Sirius," she interrupted crossly, noticing her mouth was unnaturally dry.

"What," he began, looking into her eyes, "could be more shocking than lying about Prudence?"

Althea bit her lip as his eyes narrowed. "Do you still love me?" she asked and inhaled a shaky breath.

Sirius shifted--visibly annoyed. "Yes, I love you. How much--"

Althea leaned forward. "You still love me after knowing what I kept from you?"

Sirius nodded. "I reckon I'll never understand lying to me. I should be used to it by now--you're a notorious liar--"

"How can you still love me after twelve years in Azkaban?"

Sirius shrugged his shoulders. "It's not like I could move on, could I? Azkaban isn't favorable for dating, but I didn't lovingly think of you every night as the dementors glided past my cell.... No," he explained, looking to his hands, "it wasn't until I left that--"

"All those feelings returned in a single moment," she added knowingly.

A small crease appeared between his eyebrows. "Yes--yes they did." He looked to the worn box on the coffee table. "That box...you kept everything," he said, obviously eager to change the subject.

"Of course," she replied, noticing that the right upper corner of the box needed mending. "I love her...I wanted her. I curse myself everyday for letting her go. My life..."she explained and frowned, "wouldn't have been so empty."

He took a photograph from his pocket. "When was this taken?" he asked, showing her the photograph.

Althea peered at the photograph. "About an hour after her birth," she answered as the younger version of herself kissed Prudence's forehead. "I wouldn't let go of her."

Sirius caressed the side of the photograph. "You look so beautiful."

"I look exhausted."

"No, look," he said, pointing to the young Althea as she gazed at Prudence. The young Althea smiled. "There."

Althea frowned slightly. "Oh," she murmured, unaware of what Sirius saw in the photograph.

"We'll get her back," he replied, looking into her eyes. "I promise you. "

Althea bit her lip. Please, don't make promises you can't keep, she thought--her stomach queasy.

Sirius slipped the photograph into his pocket and returned his gaze to her. He let out a quiet, mournful sigh. "What could be so horrible, Althea?" he wondered, his eyes scanning her face.

Now was the time. Furrowing her eyebrows, she took a deep breath. "Do you remember that night our fifth year? That night I learnt of my father's death?"

Sirius nodded. "How could I forget?" he replied, the look of revulsion visible. "A letter."

"Yes," she continued, looking to her hands in her lap, "and I inherited my father's things--more specifically--his journals."

Sirius frowned. "Althea, what does this--"

"Please, just listen," she said, holding up her hand for him to quiet. "At first, I thought it would be too painful for me to read his journals, but I realized they brought me comfort--as if he were still alive...and not just a memory," she explained and inhaled a shallow breath.

Althea stood and unlocked the cabinet next to the window. It had been some time since she held her father's last journal in her hands. She wiped a thin film of grey dust off the leather cover and carefully opened the worn journal to the important entry. If he reads those words, he will understand why I had to kill her, she thought, her index finger stroking her father's handwriting. He must remember that he hid those Daily Prophets to prevent me from learning my father was blown up--he will understand.

Sirius eyes followed Althea as she sat next to him. "After I returned from Romania, I discovered his last journal," she said, handing him the journal. "And in it, he disclosed who betrayed him--who murdered him."

"Pulcheria Oswin," he replied with disgust.

"Yes."

Althea intently watched as Sirius' eyes scanned the page--his jaw tightening and his nostrils slightly flaring. He roughly flipped the page and clenched the journal tighter as Althea knew he read of her father's betrayal. When he was finished, Sirius looked up from the journal and slowly closed it. His eyes met hers and in them--briefly--she saw a solemn knowing.

"You killed her," he said and the tone of his voice surprised Althea. It was neither harsh nor accusatory. It was rather calm.

Althea slowly nodded--still in shock at Sirius' lack of overblown response. "I murdered her," she replied hoarsely, and painfully swallowed--her throat very dry.

Sirius placed the journal between them. "Was this secret--avenging your father's murder--what was keeping you from me?"

Partly, she thought, nodding.

Sirius let out a laugh of frustration as he ran his fingers through his hair. "You had every right to kill her! Bloody hell," he said, leaning forward. "She betrayed your father. I remember you on that night, Althea," he continued and placed his hand against her cheek. "When I read in the Prophet how your father died--"

"You devised a plan to keep me from discovering," she finished, removing his hand from her cheek. "I know."

Sirius disregarded her interruption, "I was determined to capture the Death Eaters that murdered him."

"You were just a boy--"

"It didn't matter," he said earnestly. "I had to find them."

Althea frowned. "They were captured," she replied, puzzled. "All but Oswin."

Sirius shook his head. "Not true, one escaped capture," he said and Althea's eyes widened. "I reckon you were about four months pregnant when I received the information on the Death Eater's whereabouts. Luckily, I didn't have to search him out--he confronted me during a battle--"

"And you blew him up."

Sirius, open-mouthed, stared at Althea.

"Remus told me," she explained, smoothing out her skirt. "He was about to leave Voldemort's service."

Sirius shook his head. "No, no, that was the other one."

Althea raised an eyebrow. "Other one?" she asked with disbelief. "Right, you've blown up two people?"

"Well, yeah," he answered, shrugging. "It was a war, you know."

Althea bit her bottom lip. Yes, she thought, it was a war. Sirius would understand--he did understand--she just had to explain the circumstances.

She slowly nodded in agreement.

"Look," he began, leaning back on the sofa and folding his arms, "I'm not proud of it."

"And I'm not proud either," she replied ruefully, looking to her hands in her lap. She furrowed her eyebrows. "I'm Kelly Derry."

Althea lifted her gaze to witness Sirius' reaction. Sirius' head jolted back and he knowingly shook his head. "You can't be Kelly Derry."

"Yes, I--"

"Is this how far you'll go?" he asked, unfolding his arms. "Telling such outrageous lies? Look, I knew her," he continued and pointed to his chest. "I knew that deranged Harpy and--"

"I was in the cell to the right of you," she interrupted and Sirius stopped speaking--his mouth remained open. She anxiously wrung her hands together as she asked, "My first night in Azkaban, you told me not to think, don't you remember?"

Sirius closed his mouth.

"For if I thought, the dementors would suck out my soul," she continued, staring at her shaky hands. "I was so awful to you--tormenting you by pretending to be a ghost--but you helped me."

Sirius laughed through his nose and Althea abruptly looked at him. "You didn't torment me," he explained. "It was, after all, Azkaban."

"But--"

"I still heard you call out for me after Derry's death," he interrupted, placing his hands over Althea's tightly clenched fists. "I heard you before she arrived as well."

"You don't believe me."

Sirius remained quiet.

"I was so consumed with my hatred for you.... I would spend my days imagining ways to kill you. I even devised a plan to transform, slip into your cell, and stab you with that sharpened chair leg...but, I couldn't transform. I had to settle stabbing you in the arm instead. "

"I told you that--"

"You didn't tell me what you did after. You must've saved a week's worth of porridge rations and lured me to the front of my cell," she countered and Sirius' face paled, jerking his hands away. "I still found porridge in my hair three days later."

Sirius shook his head. "I had to have told you that," he replied and looked toward the window. "You might've killed that Oswin woman, but you're not Kelly Derry. I knew her."

"Gerry Goodwin," Althea replied, resolutely.

Sirius returned his gaze to her--his face registering surprise and horror. "How do you know about him?" he asked quickly, his voice hoarse.

"How could I not?" she answered, furrowing her eyebrows. The room felt unnaturally cool and Althea shivered slightly. "We watched from our cells as the dementors sucked out his soul.... I'll never forget it," she explained, noticing Sirius' hands slightly tremble. "I dreamt about him almost every night for a year after I left."

"It must've been in the papers."

"It wasn't, Sirius," she replied sadly. "We were forgotten in Azkaban."

"No," he countered, shaking his head. "Remus must have told you."

"Remus didn't tell me. I was there," she said with frustration. "You said that it was your second and for me to shut my eyes, to hide under my bed, to do anything--just not look."

What more must I say to prove I'm Kelly Derry, she wondered, rubbing her forehead.

Althea leaned forward and Sirius did not shrink away. "How could you believe I murdered Pulcheria Oswin, but not the others?" she asked, looking into his eyes.

Sirius' expression grew exceedingly dark. "She described for me, in detail, how she murdered them and--"

"Your murder would be my greatest accomplishment," she finished as Sirius clasped his trembling hands--his knuckles quickly turned white. "Right," she muttered and stood. "After this, you will bloody believe me." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sirius reach for his wand pocket. "Don't worry. I haven't got a knife on me. It's not that kind of demonstration."

Althea quickly strode across the study to the phonograph behind her father's desk. Opening the cabinet below, she hurriedly thumbed through the albums to find the unpleasant record. Locating the record, she felt a twinge of triumph in her stomach as she placed the forty-five on the turntable. She tapped the side of the phonograph with her wand and gently placed the needle against the vinyl. After the initial pop, and the obligatory crackles and hisses of the old vinyl, the study was filled with--as Althea knew--the most offensive sound to Sirius. How many times did I hear him hum this song, she wondered, watching the record's label hypnotically spin to music worthy of a supermarket. It was the only song he would hum...or could. I didn't help.... She turned to face him.

He sat very still. The muscles in his hands started to tense as his eyes were locked on Althea. Althea began to sing.

"Far have I traveled and much have I seen," sang Althea as she picked up the hem of her skirt and started twirl--turning her head as not to lose her gaze at Sirius. "What's wrong? Oh, mist rolling in from the sea."

Sirius remained quiet--now his entire body was tense.

Althea danced closer to the sofa. "Something is the matter, Sirius," she commented and hummed the melody. "Amplificare," she added, pointing her wand toward the phonograph.

Sirius' eyes widened.

"How his music was ever banned by the BBC...I'll never know," she said, deciding it was a good time to take another spin. "I find this song rather pleasant, don't you?" Althea took another deep breath and continued to sing. "Rather mellow too...probably all that tofu.... Mull of Kintyre--"

"CONFLARE!"

The phonograph exploded with a thunderous boom! and Althea leapt to the floor--covering her head to avoid the molten vinyl and shards of metal that scattered around her. The thick, black, acrid smoke filled her lungs and burned her throat. She reluctantly blinked away the painful tears as Sirius stepped before her. Coughing, she slowly lifted her gaze from his sand-covered sandals up his legs and to his chest. His arm was outstretched and his hand did not waver--the tip of his wand within an inch of her nose. His face bore the feral expression of Azkaban. She was no longer his Althea. She was Derry.