4. Make-ups, doors and confessions

Kitchen at the Potter's house

Sirius' POV:

"You can't go back there."

Emilia's words kept replaying through my head all through lunch. I had made an effort to actually sit down at the table with everyone else. I was sitting directly across from her, and from the glances I snuck at her, she didn't really look upset.

My mind was racing. I thought of everything but nothing at all. I felt confused, and shaken.

After lunch, James and his dad had to go to some business event, so I went up to "my" room to gather my thoughts.

My family had never been kind, or loving towards me or my brother. They were particular, and strict. Since day one, it had been made very clear what was expected of us- good manners, good grades, and a good marriage. We were birthed only to carry on the family's legacy and lineage. I was fine with it before I came to Hogwarts- fine, not happy. But the Marauders opened up new doors to living, and to happiness and I found the courage to disagree with what my family had to say. They would voice their disapproval of my attitude every time they saw me- I couldn't care less. They'd been violent before- that I cared about a little more. It had never been this bad though, just a slap here, a shove there.

I'd always toyed with the idea of running away- but now that I'd actually gone through with it, it was hard.

Despite my anger and hate towards my family, I found myself pained by the concept of no longer having a home. Which in turn made me angry at myself, because 12, Grimmauld Place had never been a home. The Potter's had felt more like home. But being here now was different, because it felt like I was here because I didn't have any other option, and I felt like I was burdening the Potters with my trauma.

But I didn't have anywhere else to go. I didn't know what I was thinking, trying to leave from here. I would have to stay here at least till start of term.

My heart heavy, mind jumbled, and eyes tired, I fell asleep.

I woke up some time later, and decided to go see if James was back.

I went to open the bedroom door, but it wouldn't budge. I pushed harder and there was a yelp at the other end.

"Wait!" The voice said. I would recognise it anywhere.

"What are you doing?" I asked her, closing the door.

"Now you can come out," she replied.

I came out to see the floor littered with art supplies- paint, brushes, water, rags. Emilia was standing there with a brush in her hand and another tucked behind her ear.

"What are you doing?" I asked again.

"I'm painting your door," she said, in a duh? voice. I looked at my door, and sure enough, it was covered with black and dark blue stripes, emanating from a point in the centre.

"Oh," I said.

"I did the others earlier in the week," she said. I turned around, and her door had the most gorgeous sunflowers; and Prongs' had a dark blue and gold scenery with a tiny stag.

My eyes widened. "You painted this?" I asked.

"Yep," she said, proudly.

I looked back at my door. "What are you trying to do here?"

"Well, you're very punk rock. I don't have a lot of expertise in the area, but I'm trying to make it look edgy."

I nodded. "You should add some silver."

She sat down on the floor and started going through her supplies. "Let me see if I have some, or I'll have to buy it."

"I didn't even know you could paint."

She grinned. "I've been known to be a bit of an enigma."

This was not true. Practically everyone at school was knew her very well, and they always assumed that I did too. Everyone loved her, and for the first time, I was close enough to her to see why. Painted doors were obviously a family thing- and she was including me. I suddenly felt this need to apologise to her- I'd yelled at her for no reason this morning.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you," I said, abruptly. "Earlier, I mean. And for banging the door into you. I didn't know you were there. I wouldn't have if I did. Know, I mean. I wouldn't have-"

She laughed, cutting me short. It was beautiful, clear sound, and more importantly, it had never been directed towards me before. "You don't apologise a lot, do you?"

I sat down, back against the wall; knees drawn up. "No. I guess not."

"It's not very punk rock, I suppose."

"You don't know what is punk rock," I said.

She grinned. "Yeah, you're right. And it's fine. It was none of my business, I shouldn't have pried."

I said nothing. A beat later, she made an aha! sound. She'd found her silver paint.

"I'm not leaving," I tell her.

"Good," she said. She scrunched up her nose. "I don't get why you wanted to in the first place."

"I didn't want to impose."

She looked up at me. "You're here all the time anyways."

"Yeah, but that's because I want to."

"You don't want to be here?"

"Well, not under these circumstances."

She nodded understandingly. It spurred me to go on.

"I don't know, its weird. I hate them and I ran away. I should be happy I don't have to go back there anymore."

"Happy? Why would you be happy? That's terrible."

"No, you don't get it. They were terrible."

"But they're your family. That's- You're bonded by blood. Humans are harder to understand, but we see it in a lot of species- muggle or magical. Blood or packs equates to something beyond. It's hard to just write them off. You can't expect to be happy about it. Plus, I'm not sure what happened yesterday but I'm sure it was difficult to bear," she said with such conviction and compassion that it warmed me up on the inside- but made me feel equally empty, now that she had validated my feelings.

"It was the Cruciatus," I said. My eyes widened. Her head snapped to me. Why had I told her that? Why? I shouldn't have. I should not have told her that.

"No, no, it's fine," she said. I'd said the last part aloud. "I won't tell anyone, don't worry." She combed her fingers through her hair. Just like James, I noted. "Fuck Sirius, did they really?" she asked, eyes brimming with tears.

I nodded.

She looked down at her paint-stained fingers. "Damn." Her tears were slipping out of her eyes now, making me cry as well.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"You don't have to keep it a secret if you don't want to. It's pretty heavy. We don't know each other very well anyways."

"Do you want me to tell them? I'm sure it's hard to do it yourself."

I shook my head.

"Alright, well, I won't."

"Thank you."

She smiled.