𝗔𝗖𝗧 𝗜𝗜 ━━ 𝗗𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗥𝗢𝗬 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗠𝗜𝗗𝗗𝗟𝗘
072. aim for my heart, go for blood

( song for the chapter:
scott street — phoebe bridgers
you're losing me — taylor swift )

❝ 𝑚𝑎𝑦𝑏𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑡
𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡
𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ ❞

━━━━ 𝑳𝑬𝑰𝑮𝑯 𝑩𝑨𝑹𝑫𝑼𝑮𝑶

      𝗦𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗨𝗦 𝗕𝗟𝗔𝗖𝗞 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗦𝗖𝗔𝗥𝗟𝗘𝗧 𝗕𝗥𝗜𝗗𝗚𝗘𝗧 𝗘𝗡𝗗𝗘𝗗 𝗨𝗣 𝗔𝗧 𝗝𝗔𝗠𝗘𝗦 𝗣𝗢𝗧𝗧𝗘𝗥'𝗦 doorstep on Christmas Eve. The tiniest specks of snow dotted the grass outside, houses were decorated with Christmas lights and festive embellishments. It felt colder and smelled like pure winter.

      Bridget was kneeling on the ground, Sirius' head on her lap. The pair was covered in snow, oozing blood from his wounds, and her dress was the only source of morbid colour in a world full of fairy-tale-like, glimmering snow and luminescence. 

      Scarlet struggled to lean forward with Sirius's head resting in her lap and managed to knock on the Potter's wooden door three times.

"Keep your eyes open, love, just listen to my voice, please" she soothed the damp tears on his cheeks, pushing the sweaty hair out of his face and running an incredibly shaking hand through his raven hair to comfort him. 

He trembled vicariously in her arms, one of his hands clutched onto hers so tightly in a way to ease his pain, that Scarlet thought her bones might break. "Scarlet," he whispered out of desperation, but he did not exactly have anything to say. 

"You're okay, you're safe now," she kept murmuring sweet things to him. Sirius almost thought it was a dream. A dream where he escaped and will never go back. "I'm right here, darling, you're all right." Her thumb gently ran soothing circles over his knuckles.

      The door swept open, and a blob of a bright red-pajamas-wearing figure appeared. 

      James Potter was careless. He did not have a single care of any consequences of his actions throughout his teenage years. However, when he opened the door to his house that night, watching his best friend on his porch steps, wrapped in the arms of a pleading Slytherin, begging him to keep his eyes open, a sense of responsibility hit him. A sense of fury hit him.

"Oh dear Merlin, Bridget, what happened?" He whispered to the trembling girl, instantly on his knees to examine the injuries on his best friend. 

"He's hurt... I didn't know where else to take him," She whispered, still busy removing snow flecks from his face. "He can't move, Potter. He—help him, please, help—"

The Potter boy was panting, running back inside the house whilst screaming with panic, "MUM! MUM!" He felt his heart being ripped apart in two, coldness overwhelming him as though he had been kissed by a Dementor, not feeling a tint of cheer even on a bright night such as this. 

"What is the matter now, James?" The woman asked right back from the kitchen, her voice echoing throughout the lively house.

James frantically entered, eyes as wide as a stag's as he glanced at his mother, "Sirius is here, with Bridget."

"At this time of the night?" The woman asked, confused.

"They don't look very good." He said, worry plastered to his face. Mrs Potter wiped her hands on a handkerchief, throwing it on the table. She brushed past her son's shoulder and walked towards the door.

"Nonsense, the two of them always look good—oh! For the love of Godric!" She gasped loudly, running outside onto the porch, and knelt instantly beside the boy.

Scarlet had Sirius' face held in her palms. The two of them were covered in blood and snow. "He's struggling to breathe... he's hurt. Can you heal him, Mia?"

Mrs Potter frantically nodded, "James, take him to the guest room... alert your father!" She stood up as the other two teens helped Sirius to be carried inside the warm house. 

"Bridget, I got him," James said, shooting her an assuring look as he helped Sirius' steps and took him away, leaving the girl standing there.

"And you, darling? Are you okay?" Mia called, hands roaming through the various cabinets in search of equipment and medicines. 

A shaken-up Scarlet turned around, the nails of her fingers dug into her palm roughly and must have created crescent moon shapes. She brushed the blood that appeared on her dress, and the colour melted into the crimson fabric of her attire. 

"Do you have the necessary potions and paste? I—I can run along and get it very quickly. The strong stuff. Or if you could—" 

"Scarlet, Scarlet, dear, we have everything. You must steady your breathing before you have a heart attack—Merlin forbid, now go in, and take a seat. I will be there in a moment." Mia confirmed, and Scarlet bit the insides of her cheeks as she went into the guest room.

      "THOSE HEARTLESS GITS USED THE CRUCIATUS CURSE ON THE BOY!" Euphemia was screaming, and Fleamont was trying to get her to calm down. 

      Scarlet and James could hear them from the guest room, sharing an awkward look as the adults' voices echoed from the kitchen. Sirius was asleep since Mia gave him a sleeping potion and claimed it would be easier to ignore the pain in this way.

"I know, Mia, I know, and I will get to the bottom of it—"

"I bet those pretentious cockroaches will walk away from this, unpunished," Mia exclaimed. "I want to write to Celeste, and I want them thrown in Azkaban! Hex them into Oblivion, or whatever punishments suited—"

"Celeste may be your friend but she's also a Ministry Law Enforcer, she cannot do anything without proof—"

"I don't care! How dare they hurt my sweet boy in such a gruesome way!"

"I should go put a stop to this," James sighed, starting to get up. he looked miserable, worry overcoming his features. 

"Do so before she loses her voice on Christmas," she blurted out. 

"Is it true, though?" James asked, "That your mother is a rule-follower?"

"Not exactly," Scarlet shrugged. "She always snuck into the Minister's office and managed to remove my records of under-age magic uses." 

James grinned devilishly at the thought. Celeste Bridget did not look like a woman who would carry out such a task.

Scarlet frowned then, looking down at her fingers on her lap, "But this is the Blacks we're talking about. She cannot do anything given their reputation and influence."

"Pity, is it not?" James asked, and Scarlet agreed with a nod of her head. "You look very pretty by the way, it's for a fancy ball, I presume," he gestured towards her dress.

"Thank you, Potter. I'll admit it was rather tedious." she said. Just then, Mia started to yell again and the two winced. She told James it is best he goes and handles it. He disappeared into the shadows and tried to get his mother to calm down. 

      Scarlet stayed by Sirius' side for at least four hours after Mia managed to heal most of his wounds; her eyes remained open the entire time she was with him, hand running through Sirius' dark hair in assurance as he slept. Mia made her a cup of tea and advised her to get some sleep, yet, Scarlet could not bring herself to let her eyelids fall shut. What if something happens to Sirius again? James would drop by in slots, quietly spending some time there before going away again.

      Scarlet swore she could have shed a tear of joy when Sirius' eyes fluttered open. Except, when he woke up and laid eyes on the girl, she did not know what to say.

      Sirius' eyes trailed across the room, and he abruptly sat up, anxious eyes looking around the room.

Scarlet softly laid a hand on his shoulder, and with a panicked look on his face, he shoved her hand away. "Where'd you bring me?" His eyes then met Scarlet's storm — which now looked to be more of a hurricane — of icy-cobalt. 

"Potter's," Scarlet confirmed, gesturing lazily across the room. "Mia is a pretty decent healer, and they said you can stay."

Sirius' posture relaxed, and he leaned against the headboard where half of his back rested, the lower half almost laid on the soft bed. He let out a sigh of relief. 

"How are you holding up?" Scarlet asked once the silence became impalpable. Besides, Sirius' lack of movement was sending shockwaves of anxiety throughout her body.

He shrugged, his expression vacant. "Not great."

"Drink more water." She reached to the bedside table, starting to pour him a goblet of water from the jar James brought a few minutes ago. 

"Water can't erase it, Scarlet." He said, and she instantly turned to him. Scarlet saw his expression was no longer empty and vacant. It was pinched with distress, brimming with an irreparable sadness.

      She looked over at the chair where Sirius' initial clothes lay, the suit he wore to Rosier Ball. The white fabric was stained with blood. When the glass pieces tore into his flesh, the crimson river just poured... and poured. 

      When she turned back at him, his cold eyes were boring into her hands. Bloodied hands. It made him uncomfortable. With her urge to stay by his side at every given second, she herself forgot to clear up and regretted it instantly.

      Quickly, she took out her wand and Sirius flinched just a little. The action caused an overwhelming amount of fear in his chest, and it left the girl hurting. After placing a cleansing charm as fast as she could, she put her wand away, pushing it into a thin burgundy belt that rested around her waist. 

      She placed a hand over Sirius', it was colder than ice. 

      As though it was a mere instinct, he curled his fingers around the witch's. The warmth radiating from her touch was soothing — her hands were usually always cold, and he always had to hold her hands to pass his warmth onto hers — it provided him a brief solace, and he felt the sudden urge to squeeze her flesh tighter. But he refrained.

      He refrained because reluctance appeared from deep under, murky depths of his overwhelming ego moving to the surface. 

"Would you like to... tell me what happened?" With the anxiety nagging at her brain, she rapidly tapped the fingers of her other hand against her thigh. 

      To Scarlet, Sirius was like a beacon of light, pulsating through a blanket of the murky fog into her hollow nights. She hoped she could also be his symbol of hope.

      However, it seemed, that what Sirius found when he walked onto the other side of the tunnel was anguish and grief. And a fierce shadow dressed in crimson blood by the name Scarlet Bridget.

Sirius glanced at her momentarily. "I told her the truth, that we were pretending."

      We were pretending. 

"Oh," She whispered, breath caught in her throat. Her blood froze over, as though someone shot her with frostbite. 

He uncoiled his fingers from hers, as though she was a nightmare he wanted to push away with a curse. "There was no point in carrying it forward, it's not like we'd actually be together." He scoffed to himself.

Scarlet felt an arrow shoot through her chest. "I–I don't understand."

"What's there not to understand," he rhetorically blurted out. "I told her why we started the entire thing and it angered her."

Scarlet snapped. "You couldn't have chosen a better time to do such a thing? Maybe—maybe if you were surrounded by me and my mother, Mr and Mrs Black wouldn't dare to hurt you—"

"Are you seriously turning this around on me?" Sirius pushed away his blankets and stood up from the bed with rage, a look of shock plastered to his face. "You're suggesting I did something wrong?"

"I am not!" She exclaimed, hands in the air out of frustration as she also stood right in front of him. "Did you even tell them something is going on between us now? You should've told your father about it the moment he hit you with the Cruciatus Curse."

"No," he scoffed, rolling his eyes without care. "Why would I want to impress either of them, and besides, we were never meant to be together anyway."

"What are you talking about," she stepped closer, raising her voice.

"Wasn't that clear?" He deadpanned, "I never anticipated actually dating you, or whatever it is that you thought."

"Okay, but that was... that was before everything else. You said things changed along the way," Scarlet felt a little perplexed, as though she was misunderstanding his words. Did she miss something? Is she going insane?

"I just—I don't know what you want from me," He said, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Nothing," she shot back softly, placing her palm over his chest only for him to step back, and her hand dropped to her side.

"I think I should make this very clear," He let out a tiny but cruel laugh, "Just because I'm fucking you doesn't mean I have to marry you whatsoever. I can't even imagine—"

"That's bullshit!" She retorted. "Why are you making it seem like marrying me would be a nightmare—? You said..." she trailed off, trying to think about a moment where he anticipated being with her, or... or wanting her. 

      It took a second even for her sharp mind to conclude that perhaps kissing and shagging is not equivalent to loving someone. It could mean something entirely different and she just picked up on the wrong hints because she is not capable of understanding things like this.

     Oh, Salazar... he never loved her. It was humiliating because it was as clear as daylight that she loved him. She was in love with him. 

      So desperately, utterly, miserably in love with him. Without him, she only saw the world through crimson-stained glass, blood covered the grass and snow. 

      She told her mind that this was a dream, it was just a dream — but it was not. This was real.

Sirius chuckled humorlessly, eyes darkening in an instant. "This was all meant to be an act, and after that, we had some fun together. That's all that happened."

"That's all that happened?" Scarlet asked, moving to stand directly before his eyesight before he could move further away from her. "Sirius, okay, just—just listen to me, hm?" She licked her lips and then pursued them tightly before speaking. "Can you just tell me what I did wrong? I'll go fix it."

"You need to step out of my way." He whispered. He wanted to get out of the room, out of her sight. Anywhere but there.

She placed a trembling hand on his chest again and she breathed heavily. "Is it 'cause I didn't show up sooner? Why... why can't you even think about wanting me?"

      Sirius looked at her with a deadpan expression, ignoring the look of desperation on her face. At the moment, none of it mattered to Sirius. He was beyond frustrated. Frustrated at the world, frustrated at the threat of losing everything he cherished. Frustrated at the girl his mother had compared him to—a perfect little hatred-filled Slytherin.

"You literally see and hear things like those mental freaks, do you really not see the problem with any of that?" asked the boy. 

      Although it was terribly wrong, he was desperate to pick her apart—unbundling her flaws and insecurities to prove to his own heart that she too is some twisted little fuck-up like him and the rest of them. She's not as perfect as Walburga says she is.

      That was when the moment stopped. Scarlet thought an invisible force had knocked the wind out of her lungs. She struggled to breathe. To inhale. Exhale.

      Of course, he used it against her. What was she thinking—handing her heart to him? She knew, she knew it was a bad idea to tell him about her terrors, about her distorted mental health because no one likes a mad woman. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, every fragment of her body now aching. It sent a gruesome cut through her heart.

"Sirius, you're being mean," Scarlet paused, frowning deeply. Her hand slipped off his chest in a form of weakness. "Please, don't do that, don't bring it up. You promised."

      She was begging. She could not stand it, standing there and having him tear her into broken pieces. It was unbearable, and it hurt too much. 

"Please." She whispered, blinking her tears away. It was too much.

      Begging.

"I'm not gonna be with a vile little psychopath," his face stayed firm and he took a step forward, nearing her and towering over her figure. She bit her lips harshly to avoid the gut-wrenching feeling, starting to draw blood on her bottom lip. He continued, "Do you really not see how fucked in the head you are?"

      No, no.

"I trusted you; I trusted you—don't you dare use that against me—!" She was cut off by him.

"I never exactly asked you to tell me anything, don't blame me," Sirius shrugged. "If you were ever capable of being in a proper relationship, you'd know that it's based on sharing your feelings, telling each other everything."

"I listen to everything you have to say all the time!" She exclaimed back, an incredulous look in her eye. "I'm always there when you have to talk about your family, what else do you want me to do?"

"What about you?" He arched a hateful brow. This was unfair, Scarlet told herself. So goddamn unfair. The way he said the word made Scarlet want to dissipate into thin air, "And your fucked-up family?" he harshly pressed the tip of his index right in the center of her chest and she took a step back at the force of action, "What about your useless dead father who engraved all that hate in your non-existent heart, what about your snake of a mother?"

"Don't you dare," she spoke slowly through gritted teeth. "Don't bring my family into this."

"As if you don't know how much I hate every pureblood family," he scoffed again, blinking harshly. "I thought you were smart enough to figure this out... you're the epitome of everything that I hate, Scarlet," he shook his head mercilessly, grimacing at her as though he was repulsed by her. 

"Then why were you with me? I didn't chain you down and force you to be with me." She sternly talked back, trying to save the last bit of her dignity and keep holding onto her fading composure.

"Because you were a good shag!" he threw his hand up in the air and laughed humourlessly. "That's it, you were good in bed. It didn't mean anything to me other than the fact that I enjoyed fucking you in every corner of the castle."

      Merlin, this was cruel, he's being so cruel. She wanted it all to stop. A good shag, that's all she has ever been to him. A notch on his belt. What was she thinking? She felt so utterly stupid and humiliated at the moment. 

      But all those times... all the sweet things he whispered to her, or the times he held her as though nothing mattered... all of it meant nothing?

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" She hissed back, tears starting to brim on her waterline, she took a step forward and her face was inches away from his. "You're the one who's fucked in the head, you're awful and cruel and—"

"You didn't truly think we'd be something meaningful, did you?" Sirius blinked, a cruel smirk taking place on his lips as though he was glad to see her crack, to see those tears in her eyes. His thoughts made him feel ruthless and a terrible person but he could not bring himself to care. Not at that moment.

"I didn't think, I hoped," She whispered, lips threatening to tremble. "You made it seem so real." A look of betrayal shot through her irises, she searched for a look of uncertainty or lies in his eyes but failed to find any. He meant every word of it, he didn't care about her. She felt so belittled at the moment, so humiliated and insecure in her soul. 

Sirius gave her a look that read out pure confusion. "What...I—Scarlet—I never knew you were this clueless," The way he said her first name felt sour, as though he was ashamed to even associate with it. "You're pathetic."

She furrowed her brows in the aching void in her heart. "Yeah, I am pathetic 'cause it took me so long to realise you weren't just fooling your parents," She shook her head in disappointment. "You were fooling around with me."

      Everybody who accused her of not having a heart was proven wrong within an instant. Because she did have one—and it was breaking right now.

He let out another, mocking chuckle, looking around the room with annoyance. "Do you see my state right now?" He exaggerated by pointing to himself frantically. "Do you know how much pain I am? I will not allow this cycle of misery to continue."

"You think I'll abuse the people I love as your parents have done you—do you really think that little of me?" She was burning with anger now, a heat rising to her chest, and she could not dim it down. But it did not compare to the sadness. 

Sirius snapped back ragefully almost instantly. He leaned down a little to her level and stared directly into her eyes, nose almost touching hers. 

"Of course, I think the worst of you. You're a Slytherin, above all, you're a Bridget. The embodiment of those vengeful blood-supremacists. You're a selfish, entitled, egoistic bitch... You'll always be one of them." She wanted to get away as far as she could from him, her hands trembled and the close proximity to his hateful radiance felt awful. 

Selfish. Entitled. Egoistic.

      The raven-haired boy was not raising his voice, yet the venom spitting down from his tone merely made the girl take a step back, feeling like a shotgun shot her heart in the dark. Almost as though a physical weapon widened the distance between the two of them.

"I can't do anything to make you believe I'm better, can I?" Her voice failed her as she tried to maintain composure. "After all I've done..." 

"I don't know, and I don't really care what you do," he shrugged nonchalantly, "Perhaps all that act about being forced to support You-Know-Who was a lie too, huh?" He taunted, and Scarlet knew better to know this moment was not a figment of her imagination.

"No, Sirius, that's not true." She shook her head, tears making her vision blurry.

"It was a stupid cover story."

"Stop, don't say that—!"

"—you hexed a girl, you ruined her life."

"Fuck you!" She cursed.

"You wanted to be a part of those filthy, unjust people—"

"Stop talking!"

"You're shallow and crooked—" he was using the words Silas Abrams had used against her a year ago. The words that made her want to curl up into a corner. The words that caused a vibrant flash of what happened that night ran across her mind—what Abrams did to her. A crooked slut, Abrams called her.

"Shut up!" She yelled with fury, the fire inside her chest blazing violently.

"You're a fucking Death Eater!"

"SHUT UP!"

Sirius said things he should not have said. And Scarlet went on and did something she shouldn't have done either.

      He fell quiet the moment she took out her wand from the belt of her dress and pointed it at his face. In fear—instinctively—he stumbled back. It came rushing back, the blood to his brain. The way his father had pointed his wand at him. The curse his father had hit him with more times than he could count. The pain and the anguish.

      The moment he needed a daring escape, she just did something that reminded him of that haunted house of his. And her almost hitting him with a hex just proved his point—that she is no better than his family—than his mother or her family, no matter how desperately she attempted to believe otherwise.

      With a gasp in disbelief—angry with herself, she dropped it. The crow-head tip of the wand hit the floor and she took a step back, raising her arms and placing her palms against her mouth—one atop of the other—to hint to him that it was a mistake. Only a mistake.

      Desperate.

      Out of all the things she had done, this was possibly the worst.

      This isn't real, it's not real. She repeated in her mind, cursing herself. Why would she do such a thing?

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I—" she clapped a hand over her mouth before another gasped whimper left her lips. Although it should have been Sirius to feel that fear, Scarlet felt more afraid of herself.

      Sirius was right. She's insane. She'd hurt people she swore she cared about. She's fucked in the head. She's pathetic.

"You're just like them," He looked at her with anger burning in his eyes. He was very close once again, his forehead touching hers roughly and this time, it felt threatening. She squeezed her eyes shut and he continued to speak;

      "I fucking hate you,"

He let out a loud huff and walked past her, pushing past her shoulder with his unharmed arm.

      Please, don't hate me.

      Please, please, don't hate me.

      Don't hate me. You'll break me. 

      Don't hate me.

      Please.

      Plea—

      Scarlet tried—so desperately—to not turn around. Turning around would mean she cares more about Sirius Black than she does about the confidence she built for herself brick by brick, and that would mean she is weak. Scarlet Bridget was not weak. Yet, despite the hard rock pressing against the dam to her feelings, she turned around. She turned around and thought—hoped for him to turn back, to halt on his steps and slow down. She waited for him to hesitate until he disappeared into the dark corridor.

      In the end, he did not hesitate to leave.

      He didn't stay. And she did not blame him.

      I wouldn't marry with me either, she thought dreadfully.