undergrounds | Every single holiday, a head in a box

She follows him wordlessly, glancing at the head once more before they disappear around the corner.

Arriving in the kitchen, Annie looks around. "Are we safe here?"

"Yes, perfectly safe. Nothing to worry about here," Sirius replies, glancing around before starting to open cupboards, looking for glasses.

"D'you want water or something?"

She shakes her head, which basically means, Sirius, put the kettle on. "be safe. They'll kill us all." And she knows it. She's seen the cruelty of vampires first hand, and now she's here, facing it again.

Facing it again as he's coolly asking her if she wants water. "No time for water."

"Hey, I told you, we're safe. Vampires can't get us here," Sirius lies, hoping it will help. Maybe there's some garlic about that will prove his point (for the time being anyway.)

"Trust me, there's plenty of time."

He doesn't find any garlic but at least glasses are obtained, as well as a kettle and some tea. Tea might help a bit better at time like this.

"Plenty of time," she says, looking around the kitchen. They were safe and he was so calm. Why? And, for that matter, where were they? This place wasn't part of District 4. This place was...

Hillingdon.

It's like a fog's cleared from her head, and she looks around the room with clear eyes, before slowly settling on Sirius.

"Oh god." She winces, wrapping her arms around herself as she starts to deflate.

"Looks like you're back," Sirius says, probably more cheerfully than he needs to be. He's just finished putting the kettle on.

"You okay? I'm making some tea."

Well that's a very good reason to be cheery, truthfully.

But Annie can't be cheerful. Not right now. "I'm so sorry," she tells him. "You shouldn't have seen that- no one should see that. It's-" private. Shameful. Wrong. "-not good."

"It's fine, really," Sirius replies. "I mean, it was just a reaction wasn't it? Have a head literally dropped on us is enough to cause anyone to panic."

Panic might not have been Sirius's reaction, but he had been surprised.

What Annie wants to know is how he can be so casual about something like this. People usually hated it, didn't understand it. But Sirius was, it seemed, extremely different.

She nods. "Yeah. It, ah, happens. I'm not really-" she points at her head vaguely. Everyone thought she was mad.

Sirius nods, catching her meaning as the kettle starts to whistle. He might not have understood it all, but he wasn't about to fall apart in a situation like this.

"D'you want some tea? Might help."

Tea. That's what her grandmother would often make, at times like this. As such, she nods eagerly. "Yes. Please. Something- something to clear my head."

he had to at least be curious. Annie shifts on the stool, unsure where to go. He's so casual. But she can't be.

"I'll make it strong then, shall I?"

He busies himself with the tea, an attempt to distract himself from asking any questions. If given the choice, he's reluctant to say anything about his past, and figures he ought to extend the same courtesy. Exercising tact is more difficult than it looks.

"Regular tea alright? It's all I could fine."

"Yes- please." Stronger the better. If she were the sort to drink, this is where she'd add for some in to the tea. But she's not, so she won't.

Instead, she'll sit quietly, enjoying (enjoying?) the sounds of Sirius preparing tea, and the occasional noise from the other room, looking at the grain on the table.

"I'm, ah- I once uhm-" how to explain? "my roommate." She raises a hand and gestures vaguely at her neck. "I saw it."

"Oh," was all Sirius could really manage as he puts the clues together. "That would explain a bit."

He passes her a mug, tea bag still floating in it, and not sure if he should offer cream or sugar (especially since he doesn't know where to find it).

"Can I ask...how? You seemed to think we were under attack."

Annie has no problem taking her tea unsweetened. She takes the mug with both hands, something to keep her steady.

"It's, ah- you can ask. It's uhm, not exactly private." The heat of the ceramic mug warms her fingers, her palms. "There was an attack. By a nest. On the school I went to. For- for hunters." She swallows, holding the mug tighter. "The Fourth District." And she'd alone survived.

Sirius nods, focusing on his own tea for the moment.

"I'm sorry," he said, not sure what else to offer at this point. "How long ago?"

"Thank you." His acknowledgement was enough, truthfully. And not making a big deal about it, for which he also had her eternal gratitude.

"Four years ago."

Sirius nodded. He'd still been in prison then, so he wasn't surprised that he missed it. The rest of the world wasn't something he'd really been paying attention to, having been caught up in his own thoughts of revenge and potential escape.

"Has anything happened, since then?"

"With- with the nest?" She blinked, looking up at him. "I don't- no. Nothing's happened with the nest." Other things, the lasting psychological and physical scars that it had left on Annie, that had most certainly happened.

"That's...unfortunate." It's the best word Sirius can come up with, at least without going stronger. It didn't seem right that there wasn't some form of retribution.

She nods. "Sometimes- sometimes I try to find them." And then what?

"Have you had any luck?"

She shakes her head. "No. I thought maybe about going back some day. But I don't... I don't think I can."

"To District Four? Where is that anyway? And why not?"

Isn't that why he's here, after all? Finding out who framed him, getting revenge?

"It's in Ireland," she says. "It's hidden. I can't go back- it's empty." She was the only one who survived.

Every single holiday, a head in a box

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)

(no subject)