Ginny was lying in her bed, her eyes closed, focused on the strange noises slipping underneath her door. Creaking stairs, tiny padding feet, the wind blowing against the windows… Breathlessly she listened to them, hoping to hear that one sound, that one sound that could calm her down and warm her, could make her fall asleep.
Footsteps.
Although he was moving silently, she could pick them up, the monotone thuds of him walking down the stairs, into the kitchen. She let out a sigh she hadn't been aware of holding, before drawing the blankets closer around her, imaging how he opened one of the cabinets and took out a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky. She didn't know why the fact that he was there, only a few yards away from her, the fact that he was awake, like her, could comfort her. Perhaps it reminded her that she wasn't the only one in this situation. That she wasn't alone.
Ginny used to think that Sirius was a mass murderer, a frightening, skeleton-like figure on a picture in the newspaper, someone who's name made her shiver whenever it was dropped. That was why meeting him the first time had been so strange. He'd never killed anybody. He was Harry's godfather. He was a member of the Order of the Phoenix. And he didn't resemble the nightmare on the photographs anymore.
Ginny had been fourteen when she had shaken his hand to introduce herself, slightly trembling. Her brother, Ron, had been delighted to see this unjustly convicted man again, asking all about a hippogriff called Buckbeak. Watching them interact, and observing Sirius carefully, she had decided he really wasn't the criminal the ministry had let her to believe he was. However, she had remained vigilant. Looks could be deceiving, something she had learned early on in life.
Undoubtedly, he was the most handsome man she had ever laid her brown eyes upon. He was tall, well-built, with lustrous dark hair that just about reached his shoulders, and mesmerising grey orbs. They showed nothing, not emptiness, not sadness, nothing. The striking grey colour seemed to match his past. With an air of casual elegance, Sirius strode through the house he hated with all his heart, the house he had hoped to never have to return to. It must have been tormenting to be trapped there, unable to go outside, unable to get some fresh air. Sometimes Ginny wondered how much worse it would be for him if he got shipped off to Azkaban again, instead of having to stay here, all alone, surrounded by memories of his painful history.
In that vacation she had slowly gotten used to him, and after a while she had concluded that she liked him. He was a kind, energetic person, craving for some adventure, some action. Ginny could relate to that. Not that she had dared to tell him, no, she was too shy when he was around, flustering red, stammering and dropping objects as if they had suddenly caught fire. His presence put her nerves on edge. Her family assumed she'd still been scared of him; Ginny knew it was something else. Occasionally, she found herself staring at him, noticing the littlest transformations. The colour that had returned to his cheeks, making him appear younger, when he had shaved and his skin was fair and soft, and, infrequently, the twinkle appearing in his eyes when he talked to Harry, making her wish she could make it show up too. Sirius was enthralling. He must have been even more beautiful before he had been sent to Azkaban. Less wrinkles, tanned, more muscular…
By the time they all had to go back to school again, Sirius' mood had darkened: he'd locked himself away in his room, didn't laugh anymore, didn't attend breakfast, or lunch, or dinner. He'd smelled of alcohol and had taken every opportunity to complain or mock. Especially Kreacher, the ugliest house-elf of all age, had been treated like he was no better than a Death-Eater.
Ginny had wanted to comfort him, but she hadn't had a clue how to.
When she had left for Hogwarts, she hadn't said goodbye. She did pat the large, goofy dog on his back, though. It had been odd to touch him, even while he was in animal form.
It was a few months later that she had seen him again, at Christmas, and the same cycle followed. In the beginning he had been joyful, at the end he was depressed and moping again.
Then there was the day he had almost died, he had almost fallen through the veil, if somehow Ginny hadn't foreseen it and saved him. She didn't understand how she managed, she only knew she didn't want him to die. Her wand had done the rest. Nobody had noticed it was her who had prevented him from getting killed, but she hadn't mind. She was too blissful with the fact that he was still alive.
The next summer she'd been less shy around him and she found he enjoyed her company, telling her stories about him as a teenager, or forging plans to not have to clean the house even though Molly wanted them to. They could chat for hours, just the two of them, and Ginny grew extremely fond of the man.
One morning he had woken her up at the creek of dawn, trying to seduce her into flying away on Buckbeak with him, an insanely risky plan. He had smelled of whisky. It wasn't hard to conclude that he had been drinking, like always when September came near and he would be alone again. She had denied his offer, of course. He had gotten mad, then silent, then had broken into angry, heated tears. Fifteen-year-old Ginny had wrapped her arms around him, comforting him and letting him cry. He had been so close to her that her body tingled. It had confused her, for she was not even a woman yet, and he was miserable and old, somewhere around thirty-five. She shook away the feeling, staying that way until they were called to breakfast.
They'd never spoken of it again.
That time, he had hugged her tightly before she left for Hogwarts. She had promised to write him. She kept it. She sent him letters about the ordinary things that had happened to her, knowing they wouldn't be ordinary to Sirius, and he wrote her back about things that had occurred when he was younger. The memories got more serious over time, and Ginny wondered if she was the only one he could speak freely with. She felt proud. When they saw each other at Christmas, she was the second person he greeted, after Harry. His eyes had twinkled as she had kissed him on both cheeks. For once, she had the feeling everything would eventually turn out right.
While they celebrated Christmas and prepared for the upcoming war, the two of them would sneak off and tell each other stories till deep in the night. Hermione had questioned her about it. She had shrugged it off. "He's just such a lonely man, Hermione. It's pitiful." She didn't dare to tell her about a dream she had had, a dream wherein she had been kissing Harry, who had suddenly turned into Sirius. It had upset her. She didn't really like him that way, did she? But as she returned to school, she found herself having these dreams more regularly. Only being Harry's girlfriend after such a long time of craving for him, tamed her inappropriate fantasies about Sirius down. She'd spent less and less time reminiscing her conversations with the man, and later on, she even wrote him less letters.
It was wrong.
She had tried to convince herself of that.
It worked for a while.
Until Harry had broken up with her and she had to spend the summer not touching him and acting if everything was alright. Worst thing was that she couldn't see Sirius. It would be too dangerous for him to come to the Nest, with the wedding preparations and all… She had never longed for him this badly before.
And now she was here, and he was drinking whisky in the kitchen. She had never finished her sixth year at Hogwarts. Her parents ought it to be too dangerous. They had put her away, safe and alone with Sirius. She had been secretly excited, now that she was seventeen, considered a woman by most people. Who knew what would happen, them alone, with the connection they had… To be honest, she was disappointed. Physically, he was in good shape, clean, muscular, well-fed. Mentally, he was a wreck. He hadn't really talked to her, he merely read books or worked out and she would watch him, say something to him and he would grumble something back, before going silent again. Perhaps, he couldn't socialise anymore after being alone that long. She didn't blame him.
Sirius' footsteps climbed up the stairs again, carefully. When they were near her, she grabbed onto the sheets, hoping he would come into her room… If only he could give her a smile… It was horrible to see him so unhappy…
Ginny sighed dissatisfied as the footsteps went further away from her. A door was slammed shut.
Oh, how she desired the twinkle to reappear in those striking, grey eyes.