Chapter Fifty One
Decisions
James stopped talking.
It was just after Remus and Peter left. One night, he said "good night" to his mother and Sirius and when he woke up he was not speaking. Not just to Sirius, but simply, he stopped talking. It was insane and frightening and a million other things and neither Sirius or Mrs. Potter knew what the heck to do.
"I should really leave, Mrs. Potter," said Sirius quietly one night at dinner.
"Nonsense," said Annie firmly. "You are staying here, Sirius. Exactly as was planned." And that was that.
But nothing upon nothing would get James to open his mouth. Furthermore, after a few days of terrifying silence, he began to disappear for long periods of time, without telling anyone where he had gone.
The hurt inside Sirius was ebbing away and quietly being replaced by worry and fear. Worry and fear are not exactly happy emotions to have, as Sirius reflected, but they were much better than the pain he felt before.
He was worried not only about James, but about Mrs. Potter. She had been coming along so well – working and grieving at the same time, allowing herself time for tears and time for professionalism, taking loans from here and paying back people there, collecting the life insurance and using her dowry, making absolutely certain that they were going to keep their house and everything they owned..
But when James silenced, then began to disappear, she simply fell apart. Her hair went greyer than it had already been, the smiles disappeared from her eyes, the house's mess increased, the house's meals began to consist of tomato sauce and chips and the like.
Something had to be done, so Sirius took the reins. He began to clean, and he recalled the Muggle recipes Andromeda had taught him when he was ten and got dinners on the table every night and breakfasts in the morn. He took over, and he began to feel stronger. More in control.
Soon, the Potters and Sirius fell into a routine. Every morning, Sirius would wake up at seven and fix a quick breakfast. Mrs. Potter, him, and James would gather in the kitchen and eat, Sirius and Mrs Potter making conversation. At first, it was strained and awkward, but as the days wore on, the two found themselves bound by a feeling of loss, hurt, and fear, and they could speak freely to one another about anything and everything and all at the same time nothing. Mrs. Potter would leave, Sirius would talk to James, yell at James, accuse James of wild things, beg James to talk..but nothing would ever work, and after a while, he stopped trying and washed the dishes and wiped down the table and swept the counters in complete silence. An hour of nothing later, James would disappear. In the beginning, Sirius would run after him as fast as he could, yelling for him to come back, but James always disappeared into one of the various paths and lost Sirius. As the days wore on, Sirius stopped chasing him, and he would spend the day picking up, thinking, reading, and writing letters until Mrs. Potter came home. He would talk to her while making dinner, and eventually James would come home, sometimes caked with mud and dirt but usually the same as he was when he left. They would eat, and go to bed early, but Sirius would never fall asleep until the early scarlet sunlight brushed the hills.
The letters to and fro Remus and Peter were the only things, at times, that kept Sirius quite sane. They were the only letters received in the house.
One early morning, however, when Sirius's owl flew in the window as he and James were clearing up after breakfast, it was carrying a dark blue envelope that he knew immediately was not from Remus or Peter.
James took the washcloth and plate that Sirius was holding and began wiping it down. Sirius cautiously walked over to Godric, let him flutter onto his elbow, and slit open the letter. His eyes soared over the contents, and when he was done, he sank into a chair, head in his hands.
Sirius,
Diagon Alley tomorrow, 3 in the afternoon.
Come alone.
We need to talk.
-Andromeda
–
On the one hand, Sirius wanted to see his cousin, he truly did – he wanted something to be as it had once been. On the other hand, he was still angry at Andromeda. On one foot, he could barely remember what he was angry about, and he quite felt that it was time to make up with her. On the next foot, he didn't want to make up with her, if only for stubbornness. On his – back, it would honestly be amazing to get the weight of his grudge at her off his chest.
He had absolutely no idea what to do, in total.
He found himself wishing he could talk to James about it.
But you can't, nyah nyah, sneered quite a rude little voice in his brain. You're on your own now, Black.
He sighed and dropped onto a chair, burying his face in his hands.
He was on his own.
–
"Trouble, Sirius?" asked Mrs. Potter during dinner that night.
James eyed his friend. Sirius poked restlessly at the dinner he'd prepared himself: soup and dry fruit.
"I'm.." Sirius sighed. "I'm all right," he lied quietly. "Just..just fine."
He couldn't tell Mrs. Potter what was going on. She had enough trouble as it was.
–
After dinner that night, Sirius and James retired to their bedroom. As usual, James lay down and closed his eyes immediately, waiting for Sirius to turn off the light.
Sirius lingered by the doorway, watching his friend silently, willing him to talk, to open his stupid mouth and help him, to understand that he couldn't handle this, he couldn't run a stupid house and deal with this, and he was honestly about to explode and he couldn't do this, and he was only thirteen, for God's sake, and that he needed someone – that he needed James..
But of course, James lay still and silent.
Sirius sighed, flicked the light off, and climbed into bed.
–
He was dying. Mr. Potter was dying, in front of Sirius, and there was nothing he could do to help him. And Mrs. Potter was crying and James was yelling and Sirius had to do something but he couldn't, he could only stand and watch and listen to his own mother, listen to her yelling about how she always knew he was a failure, that he'd never amount to anything, because he was a blood-traitor, and that he was worthless.
Mr. Potter was dying, and Sirius couldn't do anything.
And then he disappeared with a crack, and in his place was Andromeda, lying there frozen and broken and blood was slowly trickling out from all round her, and she was dead and he had never said goodbye to her, and he'd never forgiven her.
There was nothing he could do. All there was to do was scream. And scream, and scream and scream and scream and scream and scream and he was drowning, and he couldn't get out, and he was stuck..
Someone pulled him out.
Sirius woke up with a gasp. Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God..
He ran his hand through his hair. Yep, going to see Meda tomorrow..
It wasn't only, he supposed, the dream that had done it. It was the realization that they were entering war – real and true war, the likes of which he'd never in his life seen – Mr. Potter's death marked the beginning of it, and if there were going to be any more horrors like that – and there would be – he was going to need as many people on his side as he could get.
Hey guys :)
Lately I've been feeling..I dunno..that this story isn't really worth writing, and if it is I should go back and improve it. So I'm probably gonna continue it, just out of habit and because it's fun, but I want to know: how can I improve? Please tell me in a review. Thanks :D
