J U L Y 1 9 7 7

.・。.・゜✭・.・✧・゜・。.

THE WAIT TO RECEIVE her N.E.W.T. results was tortuous, to say the least. In the four weeks since leaving Hogwarts, Clara had concocted enough outlandish scenarios in her mind to last a lifetime.

At one point she had nearly convinced herself that she had earned a Troll in every subject and St. Mungo's would retract their offer of employment. But luckily, on the final Friday evening of July, her results came.

Of course, her marks were exemplary. It seemed that she was the only person within Potter Manor who was truly surprised by her high performance.

N.E.W.T. exams aside, there was still the matter of The Order lingering in the back of her mind. An unmarked envelope had been delivered to her mere days before. Unlike the rest of the post that morning, this particular letter had been dropped at the window in her bedroom.

A sinking feeling of dread consumed her from the moment she watched the owl make a quick departure, as if in the hopes of escaping the Manor grounds undetected. By whom, she was afraid to theorize the possibilities.

Before even retrieving it, Clara knew it would be about The Order and for that reason alone, it sat unopened, buried in the back of her desk drawer. Despite the neglect, its presence constantly nagged in the back of her mind.

But now, as she was packing a few essential things she'd need to stay the week with Fabian and Gideon in their flat on Diagon Alley, Clara knew she couldn't avoid the letter for much longer.

Perhaps she didn't need to read Dumbledore's message at all. Surely the twins would have received their own similar letters. Maybe they could simply relay the message to her. Hearing it from them would no doubt feel better than hearing it from the disembodied voice of her former Headmaster.

Still, as she opened the drawer to retrieve her favourite quill set, the unmarked envelope taunted her, beckoning her to face her fate.

"So, you're really leaving then?"

Instinctively, Clara slammed her desk drawer shut and spun around to see Sirius leaning against the doorframe glancing at the open trunk sitting atop her bed. It seemed he hadn't noticed she was hiding something. That, or he was doing a rather good job of acting as though he were none the wiser.

"I'm not leaving, not for good." Clara replied, steadying her voice, "It just makes more sense for me to stay in London with Fabian until I get used to my work schedule."

Sirius said nothing, merely nodded as he entered her bedroom uninvited and sat on the edge of her bed. Part of her wanted to ask him what he wanted from her, why he felt the need to speak directly to her for the first time in months.

But now, as she was only hours away from leaving the Manor, Sirius sought her out. There were a million things she could say to him, to ask him. Namely, why? But she didn't.

Clara matched Sirius' silence, only watching as he brushed his hair behind his ears and glanced around her bedroom. It was almost as though once she was gone, the room would cease to exist, and her along with it.

And maybe that was Sirius' reality. The only thread that had ever connected them had been James and that had been severed. She felt no need to try and reconnect something so fragile.

As Sirius' fingers ran through his hair, Clara couldn't help but notice the faint white line on his palm – the scar that lingered from her less than perfect healing charm months prior. Now that she knew about Remus' condition, she assumed his injury occurred on one of those nights in the Shrieking Shack.

He had come back to Gryffindor Tower so casually that night. As if he wasn't an illegal animagi, as if his best friend wasn't a werewolf. And all that time, Clara had been none the wiser.

She felt foolish for not putting the pieces together sooner. Of course she had been observant enough to know something was off with Remus, not to mention her brother's increased secrecy. But never in a million years would she have ever assumed lycanthropy was the root of all of it.

Even though she knew now, she had yet to ask Remus nor James any of the millions of questions she had. She hadn't even seen her own brother as the stag he was evidently capable of transforming into.

Her discretion was mostly out of respect for Remus. But now, as she stood in silence gazing at the boy she hadn't truly spoken to since finding out about this very subject, she couldn't help but want to talk to him about it.

Why she suddenly had the urge, when he was the cause of so much pain, she couldn't explain. That mysterious, invisible thread she thought had been unraveled was tugging her towards him once more.

"Can I ask you something?" she nearly whispered as if worried someone else inside the Manor would suddenly eavesdrop on them.

His brows furrowed slightly as she took a step towards her bed, moving her trunk aside so she could sit beside him, but he nodded.

"When did you teach yourself to become an animagi?" Clara asked.

The corner of his mouth turned up slightly, amused by her curiosity. Or maybe he was just happy that she was speaking to him again. Perhaps it was a bit of both.

"A few years ago. I was fifteen when we finally figured it out."

Clara nodded, appreciative of his candor. Though a large part of her was trying to ignore the dozens of laws the boys were breaking at such a young age.

"Who else knows?" she asked.

His brows twitched, as if briefly confused by the question, "About us being animagi? No one." he paused, "Only you."

She knew it shouldn't seem significant, but something about her being the only person that knew their secret made her feel special. Part of her also wanted to know why he didn't confide in Marlene.

"Marlene doesn't–" Clara stared, but was quickly cut off.

"She knows about Moony, not the rest of us."

There was a shadow in his eyes. It was almost as though he could read Clara's thoughts and felt a growing guilt for not confiding in Marlene. The only friend who stood by him when no one else did.

Clara, searching for a way to divert the conversation, took hold of the first question she could think of, "So, you're a dog then?"

A roll of his eyes was quickly followed by a smirk as Sirius bit back a chuckle, "Something like that."

"What kind of dog?"

This time he couldn't hold back his laughter, "What do you mean?"

"Like," she gestured vaguely with her hands, "What breed?"

Sirius raised a brow with a smile, clearly finding amusement in her inquiry, "You think I'm a poodle or something?"

Clara wanted to roll her eyes, to dismiss Sirius' sarcasm with a scoff like she usually would. But she didn't. Instead she matched his grin, letting out her own laughter. There was a sparkle in Sirius' eye as the sound filled the room. A levity that could be felt in her joy.

"No, I don't think you're a poodle." she finally replied.

Leaning back on his hands, Sirius had suddenly decided to turn her question into a game, "Why don't you tell me what kind of dog you think I am?"

She narrowed her eyes, taking in not only his appearance but also everything she knew about the boy sitting on her bed. As she pondered, Sirius' smile only grew.

"You're probably a purebred cocker spaniel with gorgeous, perfect curls, aren't you?" she teased.

"Cheeky," he muttered with a smirk, "I'm a mut."

Clara started laughing but cut herself short when she realised Sirius was indeed being serious, "You're not joking?"

When he shook his head, Clara grinned, "Yes, well, that does make a lot of sense."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

Ignoring his inquiry, Clara rose from her bed, and turned to latch her trunk, a soft smile still lingering on her lips. This was what she missed about her friendship with Sirius that had formed over the last year. When moments together like this felt natural and comfortable.

But all of that would quickly change as she turned and saw the frown growing upon his face. Trunk in hand, she could sense it without him uttering a single word. The frayed thread that still connected her to the boy made it clear, as if she could read his thoughts.

To Sirius, Clara leaving the Manor would indeed be closing a chapter on their relationship. Putting an end to all the unanswered questions and unexplored feelings. Once she was in London and he back at Hogwarts, there was nothing left tying them together.

Not until she read the forgotten letter from her former Headmaster.

Unbeknownst to Clara, Dumbledore's words would act as the stars, cementing hers and Sirius' entwined fates. No matter how hard she fought it, there was no changing the prophecy.

Little did she know it at the time.

A/N:

Hey, soooo... it's been a while 😅

If you're still interested in Clara and Sirius' story, THANKS FOR STICKING AROUND. I don't ever intend on abandoning this story, but updates will probably be verrrrry slow.

I appreciate you all!