You leave without an announcement, so unlike Sirius. However much you love your cousin, you understand that he has a flair for the show, and making a whole song and dance about leaving is his icing on the cake.
You consider for a moment that this may be why you were a Hufflepuff, and he a Gryffindor. For you, everything must be simple, for him, bravery includes making your presence known.
Soon, you can hear everyone in the house asleep. You pick up the duffel bag that your mother treated with disdain, the one with the strap that left ridges in your bare shoulder. Slowly, stepping only on the boards you had pre-checked to not make noise, one, two, tree to the left, across, back, over, right, third stair, fifth stair, seventh stair. A thousand things are running through your mind, things like, What if Bella wakes up? Will she get Mum? Will mum send Lestrange and Malfoy? What if they catch up with us? What…
No. Thinking that, now, it won't help you. Quietly.
You skip over the final noisy board and ease open the door, your clammy palms slipping and squeaking against the brass doorhandle, trying to muffle the creak with your mind.
But soon, soon for all your worrying anyhow, the fresh, warm summer air hits your face, and, after nineteen years of the Stuffy and Most Dusty House of Black, it is yet another welcome change. Even though you know you are dallying, you raise your arms and lift your face to the sky. All that…blue!
You can hear Ted saying Hurry up, Andy! We've gotta go, come on!
Ted is your escape. Leaving his job in the motor trade, risking his life and driving you in his auto all the way out to the country. He'll live with you there, too. The two of you have it planned.
So you heed Ted's advice and go to the edge of your property to muffle the sound of your apparition. Soon, you are at the Muggle café, waiting for him to arrive, rolloing your mug between your palms. All around you, people are bustling to do whatever they need to, already accustomed to this feeling of…freedom. That you could do whatever you want. That you could run off with a Muggle. That you could live.
And still sooner, you are in Ted's Jensen, top down and wind whipping quickly past your face. The engine is shuddery and your eyes are drooping, but in your haze you realize you couldn't think of a happier ending.