Ginny was staring at the ceiling of her bedroom, unable to sleep. It must have been around three o'clock in the morning, since there wasn't even a streak of light squeezing itself through the gap between the curtains. Everything was quiet, except for the usual creaking of the old wood in the house and the pattering of teeny paws.
Horrible.
How could he think like that? How could he be that pessimistic? She was still mad, even thought about slapping him in the face. A true Gryffindor would have never behaved the way he did, wouldn't he?
Horrible.
Muttering some swearwords, she turned around in her bed, attempting to find a comfortable position. She failed. Frustrated, she bumped her head into her pillow. How did she end up here? Why wasn't she still at Hogwarts, running Dumbledore's Army with Neville? Protecting the students who took shelter in the Room of Requirements? Being of meaning… Instead of those things, she was stuck with the man she loved, but who wasn't like the man she remembered. That Sirius would have never given up on Harry. Or would he?
Her pondering was interrupted by loud, banging footsteps, staggering down the stairs, in her direction. She sat up in her bed, a tad scared, digging her nails in the mattress. Her breath quickened, the person neared her room, and before she could register it, the door was thrown open. The tip of his wand was glowing, bathing Ginny in the mysterious, blue glim. Protecting herself from it, she put her hand above her eyes. She couldn't see him very well, he was only a shadowy form. What was he doing here? Had he finally regained some sense? She waited for him to speak. It didn't take long.
"How do you keep faith? How can you be convinced we'll win?"
Ginny relaxed. It seemed as if her words had had impact. Perhaps she got through to his stubborn views. "How can you not? Don't you think our side won't stop fighting until all of You-Know-Who's followers are either dead or imprisoned? Don't you think Harry won't stop trying to kill You-Know-Who until he succeeds?"
He didn't answer.
Ginny climbed out of bed and walked towards him, lightly pushing his wand down so that he would lower it. Now she could see him. He was a mess. His hair tangled and full of knots, blood red eyes, torn and scruffy clothing hanging around his body… His hands shook, and she wondered if maybe his drinking had evolved into a drinking problem. The anger that she had felt towards him sunk to her toes. She pitied him.
"Sirius… I understand that it seems hopeless, with Dumbledore dead, and Moody too, and that the ministry's under You-Know-Who's control…" she gave in, "but we don't see what's happening on our side. And that's a good thing. It means we're able to set up plans in secrecy. Just that the two of us haven't got a clue what Remus and my parents and Tonks and everyone else is doing, doesn't mean we're losing. On the contrary: we're winning. The fact that we didn't hear a single word about them, tells us that we're making good progress."
He snorted. "We…" were the only two letters escaping his lips. He gazed in her direction, distant look in his grey eyes. Shaking his head, he turned away from her, leaving her, blending in with the dark.
We… He felt useless. She'd already predicted that, now he'd confirmed it. A man as vigorous as him shouldn't be locked away, especially not on his own. He'd rather go outside, risk to get murdered or captured, than staying here, day after day, unable to help and shield his friends, his loved ones… If Harry hadn't let him promise to be careful, to not leave the house, Sirius would've been killed a few months earlier.
Realising that, Ginny shivered, stepping back towards the warmth of her bed.
She prayed he wouldn't do something rash.
It would be the last mission he'd ever executed.