Chapter 37: London

AN: Kudos to anyone who got the Dostoevsky reference.

Drive Away by The Brummies

I arrived in one piece at the Muggle hotel later that day. At least, in one piece physically. But mentally, I felt like I'd left a part of me behind, leaving a yawning chasm in my chest. I tried to fill the void with thoughts of Sirius, but that seemed to only make the pain worse because of the emotional turmoil that he caused in me. Right now, I couldn't help but feel totally buggered by my family situation and my feelings for Sirius, and there was no way around either of those problems, at least for the time being.

I spent that first week in London in a haze of denial and numbness. In the few days that I had before Christmas, I occupied myself by going to Muggle museums, libraries, and galleries during the day. In all respects, I looked exactly like a Muggle. I weaved through the crowds of them as they went on family outings or finished their last-minute Christmas shopping. Besides the wand in my pocket, I was mostly a Muggle. I tried my best to avoid the more crowded areas when I could, because the happy families reminded me too palpably of what I'd so recently lost, and what I'd never valued and cherished until it was gone.

Weaving through crowds and watching people from park benches and museum steps, I thought about Sirius too. Part of me wished, hoping against all odds, that I'd somehow run into him in London. Perhaps I would if he were on his way with the boys to The Leaky Cauldron or Quality Quidditch Supplies, in some sort of unlikely scenario. I imagined scanning the faces in the crowds and miraculously seeing his amongst the rabble. Obviously it never happened. I knew where Sirius was spending his holidays, and there was an extremely low chance of him coming to London, let alone being in the same location as me. But that never stopped me from hoping, because I longed for him to be here with every fibre of my being. If the grief didn't drive me over the edge, then perhaps my feelings for Sirius would.

When I returned to my hotel room in the evenings, I felt Sirius's absence even more tangibly. During the day, I had the bustling crowds around me to fill my senses and periphery vision, but when I came into the silence of my room, my thoughts of him overwhelmed me. In those evenings, I imagined what it would be like to have him with me. He'd stand with his hands in his pockets and leaning against the wall, grinning at me like a handsome devil.

"Hey, kitten," he'd say. "This is nice, getting a room to ourselves." Or perhaps that was me wishing that he'd say that.

"Nice to see you here, Sirius," I whispered, sitting on the bed with my knees tucked up to my chest.

"What's wrong, kitten? Aren't you so bloody excited to get me and this room to yourself?"

"I s'ppose," I muttered to the duvet.

He'd walk over and sit next to me on the edge of the bed, close enough to touch but still so distant. "Aw, kitten. A thorough shag will cheer you up, I promise." Or maybe he wouldn't say that.

"What have I done, Sirius?" I whispered.

He'd stay sitting, physically here but emotionally in some other far-off land. Though, I had no idea what he'd say in this situation because I'd not gotten this close to him yet. Would I ever? I wanted to know all about him, and if he never let me get close enough, then that alone would shatter my heart. The reason that I wanted to know more about his family was because I wanted to know everything about him, and I wanted him to open up to me enough to comfortably tell me about his past. Even though I'd seen Regulus on Platform 9 ¾, that had been an accident and Sirius had shown me how uncomfortable he'd been in that situation with his body language and the way he'd stared me down defiantly, as if he were expecting me to scorn or make fun of him. Couldn't he see that I would never, ever do that to him? Even after seeing that vulnerable side after the duel with Avery, I still needed to demonstrate that I would never try to hurt him while he was vulnerable. Wasn't it enough already? Haven't I shown you enough, Sirius? Why won't you let me be close to you?

But in the end, I was never truly frustrated with Sirius for still holding me at arm's length from his vulnerable side. He'd gone through hell, and he'd survived that by being tough and suspicious. It was what I'd done all the years spent hiding my Inner Eye, and I completely understood why he was the way that he was. In fact, I could never be angry with him for being himself, personal image and all. At the very least, I'd seen so much more of him behind his bad-boy image than most people were ever allowed to see, and for that I was grateful. But neither did it stop me from fearing that he would forget all about me over the holidays, and that he'd come back to Hogwarts feeling bored of me.

On Christmas Day, when none of the museums or shops were open, I went in search of something from my Seer dreams. I'd already dreamt of that dark, dank wizarding house several times in the fall, the one in the long row of Muggle townhouses with the black door, beside which was the number 12. Several months ago, I'd seen the street name as well: Grimmauld Place. I took my car, since I couldn't apparate both for fear of splinching myself and of having a Muggle see me. Moreover, I had no idea where I was going, and so I couldn't properly visualize where I would apparate to. To my surprise, I found the street on an ordinary map, and I set out early in the morning after a night of little sleep.

I parked one street over and walked to Grimmauld Place, looking for all the world like a lone Muggle girl out for a walk on Christmas morning. I slowed as I went down the row of townhouses, staying on the other side of the street as a precaution. But there was nothing. Number 11 and Number 13 were right where they should be, but the house that I was looking for was not. I cursed, the words coming out in a puff of fogged-up breath, and stood across the street, staring at where Number 12 Grimmauld Place should have been. I sat down on a nearby bench, glaring at Number 11 and Number 13 and pulling out a cigarette.

In my sleep-deprived state, it took me the time to smoke a whole cigarette to realize the obvious: Number 12 was hidden by wards and other concealment spells. I stayed after I'd twigged that I wouldn't be getting into the wizarding house, simply contemplating the row of townhouses and my cursed, maddening Seer abilities. I was itching to summon the door of Number 12, but I wasn't that foolish.

Obviously, I was dreading my return to Hogwarts. Not only would I be struggling to function normally after my life had gone to shit, but there was also the matter of Avery and other Slytherins knowing that I was a Muggleborn now. I was sure that they would try to hunt me down and do to me what they'd done to Mary Macdonald, or worse. What's more, there was the problem of my feelings for Sirius, and if he should reject me when I saw him next, it might be the final straw in my current emotionally fragile state. But I'd already broken my heart by obliviating my family, so how could Sirius break a heart that had already been cleaved in two?

The loss of my family set in during the second week of the holidays. I spent an evening driving around aimlessly, so much so that I had to stop at a petrol station. I parked my car in a parking lot overlooking a quiet park, under a darkened sky full of stars, pinpricks of light in an indigo blanket above me. I turned off the car and hunched over the steering wheel, crying until my head hurt and my eyes were puffy and angry. If I hadn't had to obliviate my family, I might've been at James's place now with the boys and Lily, basking in the shining glow of Sirius's presence. As it stood, if Lily or James had sent me a letter inviting me to his place, I wouldn't receive it because I was long gone. They didn't know where I was, and I had no idea where they were. And would I have been able to pretend to be normal around them, especially Sirius? No. It was better this way, all alone with my grief. But I surely must be having the worst holidays of everyone at Hogwarts.

I managed to fall asleep later that night in my hotel bed, curled up in a ball with my arms around myself, trying to hold the broken pieces together as I shook and cried. I dreamt of Magnus's future that night. I saw him at his new school in Leeds, happy and smiling, like he'd always lived there and never in Reading. He was popular at the new school, just as he'd been for his whole life. In the dream, I burst into sobs as I followed him home and through the front door of their new house, where I saw my mother reading a Swedish book in the living room. My father was in the kitchen, fixing himself and Astrid cups of tea, and they stopped Magnus to talk about his school day while they sipped from their cups. They were all smiling, as happy as they'd been before I'd obliviated them. But that was okay, wasn't it? I was glad that they were content with their new lives, but it still tore my emotions to pieces. At least my family didn't know any better, while I was left to grieve their loss.

I hated myself for what I'd had to do to them. I really was a sick person, a spiteful person. No, I wasn't a pleasant person at all. Maybe there was something wrong with my liver? Granted, I didn't know a bloody thing about my liver, or whether all this pain was really only in my head, an emotional pain. The only thing that was conceivably wrong with me was that I was a Seer, and that it had forced me to ruin the lives of my parents and brother, and my own in the process. Did my gifts only exist to help others, at the expense of my sanity and happiness? Did I exist in misery just to aid others with my dreams and visions? Would my happiness always be subjugated to my Inner Eye and the things that it forced me to watch unfold? But none of these endless questions mattered; my family was gone and I couldn't bring them back.