DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the content referenced/quoted. Warning for minor swearing.
11. The Sea
Em spends her first summer alone after Remus stops talking to her. She's still not sure why he did what he did, although she has her suspicions.
It gets worse when she realises the others aren't replying either. There are no letters, no packages, no postcards, no silly photos, no owls, nothing. The green thing in her chest grows thick thorns, spreading through her bloodstream, sharp and painful.
Those amber eyes from her dreams haunt her; Em spends night after night chasing after them, but the creature refuses to be found. She doesn't sleep, and if she does it's fitfully.
So when Sirius Black shows up on her doorstep on a particularly hot summer day, she almost slams the door in his face. Scratchers, stretched across her shoulders lazily, hisses at the sight of the boy.
"Hi Em."
"What are you doing here?" She crosses her arms and scowls at him.
"I…" he hesitates, "I wanted to make sure you were alright."
"Well all of my friends have stopped talking to me and Remus keeps returning anything I send him and the muggles at school think I'm weird, so what do you think?"
Sirius averts his gaze and tugs at the end of his shirt. He's wearing a Ziggy Stardust top and she has to hide her smile at the sight, the memory of him crowing to the music with the other boys ringing in her head.
"I'm sorry," he says, "It's my fault. I did something, something bad to Snape and he got hurt and it spooked Remus and I'm sorry."
Her heart drops into her stomach. The dream lingers in the back of her mind.
"Oh gods, Sirius," Em says, lifting Scratchers from her shoulders to place him on the ground. He stares up at the two humans for a minute before sauntering off, "He didn't...he didn't kill Snape, did he?"
"Godric no! He just, um-"
"Because the only reasons Remus would stop talking to me is if it was something to do with his parents," she pauses, looks Sirius dead in the eye, "Or it was to do with him being a werewolf."
Sirius freezes, "You know?"
"I've had my suspicions for a long while," she says quietly. "And it's not as if you went to any great lengths to hide it. Calling him 'Moony', hmph."
"But we thought...muggles know about werewolves?"
"Godric, of course, you dipshit," Em says, "Besides that, I've been tracking the days he fell ill since I was twelve."
"I really am sorry, Em," he says.
"I know."
The two stand in silence, Sirius with his gaze glued to the ground. Em chews on her lip, hand moving to the edge of the door. She's contemplating shutting it, closing this chapter of her life with it. But something in Sirius' face makes her hesitate - something dark, lonely and so familiar.
"Have you got a minute?"
Sirius' head lifts, gaze settling on her curiously, head tilting like a dog.
"There's something I would like to show you." Em steps down from the doorstep, closes the door quietly, "It's a short walk, promise."
His expression flickers, before the smirk she has come to love spreads across his face.
"Walk? Why would we walk when I have something much better."
He leads her down her gravel driveway where a motorcycle stands. She raises a sharp eyebrow and Sirius' grin widens.
"What do you think?" He asks as she circles the vehicle curiously.
"It's not going to bite me or set me on fire or anything, is it?"
Sirius barks a laugh.
She scowls at him, "Don't laugh, how am I supposed to know how magical vehicles work?"
"What makes you think it's magical?" Sirius smirks.
"Because it's yours."
"Fair enough," he slides one leg over the slim body and beckons her over. He slips a helmet over her head, snickers as it squashes her face in tightly and helps her slip onto the bike.
"What's our destination, Withers?"
"I'll direct you. Just turn right up here to start."
She realises instantly why Sirius has picked a motorcycle. The growl of the machine hums through her body as they speed along the road, wind rushing through her hair; she imagines this is what flying feels like.
She wonders briefly if Remus had been on the bike, what he thought of the rush, the adrenaline that had her clinging to Sirius' leather-clad back.
The air turns salty, and when she feels the sting of the wind against her face she knows they are close.
She makes Sirius peel from the road into a deserted layby. They pull themselves from the bike and she leads him through rustling undergrowth. As they slide through the last of the mud and tangled leaves, the sea breeze hits them in the face. Seagulls cry in the distance, hovering over choppy grey waves that crash onto dark pebbles. In the distance, a sea arch looms casting long shadows along the water. The beach is deserted and for that, Em is thankful.
Sirius is wide-eyed, taking in the wild sights before him.
"What is this place?" He asks.
"A beach."
He shoots her a shrewd look, to which she grins. Then she darts forward, hand snagging on his sleeve.
"Tig, you're it!"
She races off, sprinting across the beach, trainers sinking into pebbles. With a barking laugh, he sets off after her. They dash and dart and laugh and sprint across the rocks as the wind rages and the clouds roll darkly overhead. They run wild until they are too tired to run anymore and collapse upon the sands to watch the waves heave themselves onto the shore.
And the thorns in her bloodstream retract, lose their sharp sting.
"I've left home, you know?" Sirius says after they've regained their breath.
"Really?"
"Yeah," he says quietly. "I'm staying with the Potters, just until I figure out what I'm going to do."
"What about Reggie?"
Sirius is silent for a moment, "He's made his choice."
His face is grave, brow drawn, eyes stormy. A knot forms in Em's stomach; Sirius' expression echoes that dark, lonely one she had become so familiar with - it makes her heart hurt.
She reaches for his arm, grasps it tightly. He glances down at her.
"Everything is going to be ok, Siri," she says, resting her head on his shoulder. "I just know it."
He places his head on top of her, "I hope so, Em. I hope so."
The smell is so familiar, and it takes a minute for her to place it. When she does, she almost stiffens in shock. Musky leather and smoke and wet dog and salt; the same scent that had greeted her when she first met him.
"You alright?" His voice rumbles deep in his chest, and she finds herself nodding quickly.
"I will be."
Later, she sends Sirius off home with Tupperware full of rhubarb crumble. As she waves him off, she feels the thorns in her chest start to flower again.
The letters return shortly after that. And Em doesn't feel so alone anymore.
...
EDITED: 03/02/21