The aftermath
The dimmed light of the cold and wet January morning filters through the partially drawn curtains colouring the room a dull grey. And that's all Eva can tell from the limited view her position allows. She lies very still, wrapped in blankets, facing a ceiling and a blank wall, blinking away the dryness of her eyes. She moves her head to one side and stares incomprehensively at a half-naked blonde, kneeling in the shallow azure waters, smirking at her seductively. She frowns but soon loses interest as her head aches dully, the way it does when you cry yourself to sleep. A short sigh escapes her chest as she remembers why her head throbs and her mouth is parched. She almost wants to go back to sleep never to get up again. Despite this, she turns her head to the other side to examine the room she is in. The broken mirror and a familiar armchair at the side of the bed give it away as Sirius' bedroom.
How did she get here? The last thing she vaguely remembers are the stone floors somewhere at the bottom of the house. Where she had broken down completely because of a flick of hair. Only it wasn't because of a flick of hair. Or a bark of laughter. She swallows a lump in her throat and wets her dry lips. She still hasn't made an attempt at moving and even when the doorknob turns and the door opens slowly, she only continues to stare. She is not really surprised when it's him.
Sirius stops when he sees she is awake. He approaches tentatively, his eyes searching, like he thinks one wrong move might set her off. Who knows, it just might.
"Tea?" He motions towards the cup, she hasn't noticed, that he holds in his hand. She bits her lip and nods slightly. Only when she disentangles herself from the blankets and pulls herself up, putting her weight on her wrists, she realizes her every muscle hurts from continuous spasms that had ran through her body the previous night. She leans on the headboard and goes to push her hair out of her eyes only to find it matted to her face, which feels tight and swollen.
He sits down on the armrest of the armchair and she accepts the cup gratefully and, in order to avoid looking him in the eye, makes a too big sip of boiling tea. She gasps but swallows stubbornly, still looking into the cup. It's not only that she's embarrassed (because she is, oh she is) but she is not sure she can trust herself not to go into another nervous breakdown.
"How-" Her voice comes out hoarse and even when she clears her throat, she still struggles to use her vocal cords. "How did I get here?" Her eyes flicker upwards to see him fidget uncomfortably.
"I brought you here." This time her head snaps up in surprise although it is the only logical explanation as she is in fact in his bedroom.
"You did? Why?"
"It seemed fitting."
"Oh." Fitting? She is not sure she understands what that means but doesn't ask. She searches his face for some answers, but his expression remains blank. What was it that she found so familiar yesterday?
Sirius clears his throat awkwardly, looking away from her.
"How are you feeling?"
She raises her eyebrows in surprise at the strange question. Like she has just woken up after a serious sickness or a near fatal injury. And how does she feel? Like she has been sucked into a vacuum and trapped into an impermeable bubble.
"Fine." What other answer can she possibly give?
Sirius grimaces, sucking his cheek in and Eva's heart gives a painful thud. She stops breathing. There it is, that familiar half annoyed, half self-deprecating expression of his youth on a prematurely aged sunken face. Merlin, how she missed seeing his face. To her horror she can feel the treacherous pressure behind her eyelids build up. God, not again. She looks up, towards the ceiling, blinking rapidly, trying to prevent her tears to form.
Sirius obviously notices her struggle as he clears his throat uncomfortably, fidgeting in his seat. And Eva realizes; he has no idea how to deal with her. He was always uncomfortable with feelings, always warry of her tears but he still knew how to deal with them. He was never one to give her empty reassurances (and she never wanted them) but he knew just what to do or say to distract her, to acknowledge her worries or just insert a sarcastic quip to make her stop feeling sorry for herself. But he has forgotten. Or didn't care to. They are strangers. The tears she has managed to blink away for a few moments, glisten in her eyes with renewed persistence.
"Do you want me to call Tonks? Or Molly?" His question only serves to confirm her sad musings. There is no stopping the tears that wetten her cheeks. She has no power over them and forcefully wiping her face with the back of her hand seems to be useless. At least she is not sobbing. Thank Merlin for small miracles.
"No. Don't call anyone," she manages to say raspingly.
"Are you sure? They wouldn't mind. Molly has already dropped off a bowl of soup for you and Tonks has checked-up on you through a firecall first thing in the morning."
"I'm not sick!" She somehow manages to sound indignant. And very ungrateful. The sudden guilt does nothing to stop her downpour. "I'm sorry, just don't call anyone. They have already done enough for me." She avoids looking at him as she continues to wipe her face with no results whatsoever. A teacup is removed from her shaking hand.
"They really wouldn't mind…" He trails off as she keeps shaking her head. He doesn't want to deal with her by himself. He can just leave if he wants to. It would be for the best. It is as if a stranger sat by her bed anyway. Only worse. Because he isn't a stranger.
Merlin, why is this happening? She thought she has cried herself out last night. Although, those aren't the same tears of raw pain she has cried into Tonks' lap. This is self-pity. She is feeling sorry for herself. She hasn't allowed herself to feel sorry for herself in years. She knew it would have burned her alive.
"God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," she says through her tears, gritting her teeth to stop the flood forcefully. She can't stop. And Sirius shouldn't have to look at this. "Just go. Go!" There is no way she will be able to stop with him sitting there and looking at her with a mix of awkwardness and pity. For she hadn't missed pity in his eyes. Something changed last night while she was crying her heart out on the floor of his childhood home, and though she should be grateful, that he isn't snarling into her face, it only agitates her. What, so that's what it takes for him to finally figure it out, that she is hurting? He needs to see her broken?
"Eva, come on. I'm not going to leave." To call her by her name in that moment when he uses her last name almost exclusively. To dangle in front of her face a whiff of what they used to have only to snatch it away when he remembers he hates her. And why shouldn't he hate her? Her feelings are a jumbled unique mix of guilt, self-pity, nostalgia, anger and sorrow feels like a whirlwind. She just can't stop to decide on one or another. How can one person feel all that? How can one person survive this? The tears continue to drop off her chin as she doesn't manage to catch them fast enough.
"You should. I'm sorry, I just can't stop. I can't stop," she says through the palm that is frustratingly wiping at her nose. "Merlin, just do something."
And then it's like something clicks. Like the pieces fall into the right place, spurred on by something in her words or something in her desolate but frustrated tone of voice or even by the familiar impatient way she tries to make her tears disappear.
"What do you want me to do? Knock you over the head?"
"If necessary," she says nasally. Sirius rolls his eyes at her.
"You were always such a menace, Marlowe." He summons a box of tissues and pushes them at her. "Here, use these. Stop being disgusting and wiping your nose with your hand. You are ruining my bedclothes."
She glares at him through the blur but does in fact use the tissues. She is ruining his bedclothes? The last time she was here, there was nothing left to ruin. (Merlin, the last time.) The bedclothes do smell fresh, she gives him that.
At least, it seems his sarcastic remark has finally slowed down her tears.
He gets up and leans on the window, watching the dreary street below. She wipes off the last of her tears the best she can and then looks up at him from beneath her wet eyelashes to find him studying her.
"You can go now. I'm fine," she tells him again. If she is honest with herself, she wants him to leave because it hurts to look at him, knowing he hates her. She finally admits it, at least to herself, she has missed him so much it hurts. No. She misses him.
"This is my bedroom."
"Well, you brought me here," she snaps back. She should have just apologized and left. Why can't she ever just back down when it comes to him? At least she has stopped crying. Their forceful exchange of words, mild in comparison, stirs something familiar inside her. God, how they used to bicker.
"Would you rather I have left you laying on the floor?"
"I would have deserved it, no?" She turns her head away from him and silence ensues. They were always bad with silences.
"Eva." His voice is uncharacteristically gentle and hesitant. She doesn't want his pity. She doesn't want him to start treating her differently just because she feels sorry for herself. She wants his understanding. She wants him to know. Know what? Just know.
"I'm sorry. I don't want to be ungrateful. Thank you for bringing me here," she says regally.
"Don't give me that crap, Marlowe," he barks at her, turning away from the window fully. "Look at me!" When she is too slow to comply, he grips her chin and turns her head, so she stares directly into his stormy eyes. "I know you. It has been fifteen years, but I still know you. So, don't give me your complacent apologies."
"Do you? Still know me?" Do you know? Just know? Do you know we share the same sorrow? Do you know we still live in the same happy memories? Do you know we long for the same moments? Do you know we share that same unmanageable pain? Do you remember? Do you know?
They stare into each other's eyes as she tries to convey all that without words.
"Eva." His hand slips from her chin to cup her jaw caressingly for a moment. The earnest expression on his face is not one she has seen often (he always liked to wear his mask of happy-go-lucky guy) but she was still privy to it enough times to recognize it. She closes her eyes. "It is still you."
"Is it?" She is not sure. "After everything? After all I have done? After believing…" She cannot even say it. How could she?
"You didn't know. Nobody knew, Eva. Nobody knew about the switch. Nobody was supposed to know. That was the point. You couldn't know."
"Yes. But I didn't know. Me."
"I don't blame you. I forgive you. I have forgiven you a long time ago." She gives him a searching look, full of self-hate.
"You did. But I never can." It is a burden she can never unload. She deserves to carry it.
"Your best friend just died." Her breath hitches at his words. "Your best friend. Your best friend that wasn't just a friend but so much more. I know perfectly well what Lily meant to you." She has to look away as she blinks off another round of tears. "You believed what was presented to you to be the undeniable truth. They told you how it was, they presented the evidence. Why would you doubt it? If it were me-" He laughs mirthlessly. "Hell, it was me. My best friend, my brother died, and I rushed after his killer with no thought of anyone but my own pain. You were right, James wouldn't care about revenge. He only wanted his son safe."
With a pang she remembers yelling those exact words into his face a few months ago. She grimaces. God, when will she stop hurting him?
"James would go for revenge, too. If it were you. If the roles were reversed." Sirius shakes his head.
"Maybe. After making sure my son was safe and taken care for. He would keep his promises. He wouldn't throw his life away." She spares him empty reassurances as she too knows he has a point. She has after all realized at the tender age of sixteen, that James could survive without Sirius and Sirius never could without James. Padfoot without Prongs was just an empty shell of himself. And then, in her own pain, she had forgotten. Forgotten that Sirius couldn't live without James. Like she had forgotten so many things.
And now? Is he living now?
"I too know what James meant to you. I always knew. And I still believed you betrayed him." Sirius flinches at her words. "I still…"
God, why do they have to drag everything up? She has hard enough a time keeping herself together when they ignore their past altogether.
"You were in shock. Your life has been turned upside down in a span of one night. Just cut yourself some slack-"
"Yeah? Like you did?" He snaps his mouth shut at her question. "You made it perfectly clear you hate me in the last few months."
Just shut up, Marlowe! Don't go down that road. But it's too late.
She throws off the blankets she has been cocooned in and gets on her feet. She can't be sitting in his bed while he looms over her. Not for this conversation. She doesn't even notice when her bare feet hit the could ground. Nor does she register she has no pants on.
"I don't hate you."
"Really? Could have fooled me." Sirius drags a hand through his hair frustratingly.
"I know I had been giving you a hard time, but I just don't know how else do deal with you. With your presence."
"Why are you telling me this? Why the sudden change of heart after yesterday? Have I finally suffered enough for your taste? Have you decided I am broken enough?"
"I never wanted to see you broken!"
"Liar! That's exactly what you wanted. You wanted me as broken as you are. Even if in your righteous anger, you think that that can never happen. That I could never have suffered as much as you and that you can push me as far and as hard as you like. But you needn't have bothered, Sirius." She laughs hysterically. "I've been broken for fifteen years."
"I know," he says quietly. Do you know? It does nothing to soothe her. She just continues as if she hadn't heard him.
She wonders if it really matters. And why does she have to push so hard. But somehow it does. And she does.
"Or do you think I'll just off myself? Is that it?"
"I know you would never do-"
"What do you know?" she asks derisively, not waiting for an answer. "You don't want me on your conscience, so you decided you'll-"
"Do his feet still dangle in front of you when you encounter a Boggart?" he asks matter-of-factly, and she stops mid-word. Her chest raises rapidly with her breaths and she can hear her own pulse in her ears. "And that's how I know you would never off yourself, as you say."
Of course, he knows that. She has totally forgotten that he is the only person who has seen her Boggart. She told Harry, and Lily, of course, many years ago. But to this day, Sirius Black is the only person to have actually seen it.
She turns away from him, hugging herself. She is so cold.
"I think… I haven't seen a Boggart in a while. But I think, if I'd see one now, it wouldn't be Jonathan's feet. It would be Harry's feet. It would be his feet in those green socks with tiny snitches fluttering on them, that I bought him for Christmas."
There, she has said it. It has been in the back of her mind for a while. Chipping away at her conscious and especially unconscious mind. Jonathan's impish smile in her dreams. Like a foreboding sign. Even if Eva doesn't believe in such things, she cannot force herself to dismiss it.
There is sort of hopelessness on her face as she meets Sirius' wide eyes.
"You don't really think…?"
"I don't know!" She throws her arms up in frustration. "He is the kindest, most compassionate kid I ever met. His strength and belief in people after all he has been through are remarkable. But sometimes… I can see how much pressure he is under. And how sad he is sometimes. I just… Maybe it's just on the forefront on my mind because I have always lived with it. I don't know."
She looks at him like he has all the answers but all he does is sit at the foot of his bed, dragging both of his hands through his hair.
"I don't know what to do with this," Sirius admits, and Eva can relate. "What would Lily and James do?" Eva shrugs.
"Kill Voldemort?" Sirius lets out a surprised laugh.
"Yes, why hadn't I thought of that?" he asks sarcastically. Then he leans forward on his fists, his elbows resting on his knees.
Eva sighs and sits beside him on the bed. Her palms rest on her ice-cold thighs and only then does she realize her lack of pants. She looks down to see, that the only thing she is wearing is a male t-shirt (probably Sirius') that due to her height doesn't even properly cover her own (luckily) knickers. She tries to pull down the t-shirt (not because she's shy, he has after all seen all there is to see but because she is freaking cold) but to no avail.
"I shouldn't have said anything. I'm probably just paranoid." But there is no one else she could have said it to.
"Of course you should say something. We should talk to Harry the next time we see him. Maybe you should tell him… About Jonathan," he suggests carefully.
"I already did."
"You did?" There is undisguised astonishment in his voice. Not because she had talked with Harry about Jonathan's suicide but because she had talked about this with anybody.
"It wasn't so hard." Eva smiles bitterly. "I have so many traumas in my life this one doesn't even come in top five." She has felt the urge to tell Harry then. She felt like Jonathan himself was urging her to do it.
Sirius gives her a doubtful look.
"How did he react?"
"Like you would expect. With horror. And compassion. And worry for me." She laughs. "Like you would expect from Lily's son." Sirius smiles to himself at that.
"Then we should also trust him to act as Lily's son." She nods.
"Maybe you're right. But I still worry. All the time."
"Probably those maternal instincts, that Remus talked about, acting out." What had she said about maternal instincts? The constant terrified worry?
"I wish Lily was here," she sighs, and Sirius looks at her like he has just remembered something.
"What happened yesterday;" Sirius was obviously not willing to give name to her nervous breakdown. "Was that about the other night?" He was also not about to say, when we fucked in a drunken haze.
"No," she denies immediately. Then thinks about it. "Maybe. Not really." How is she supposed to explain this to him? That she has chosen to forget about him. And did it so well, that when he came back to her life, he was a stranger to her. "I haven't allowed myself to think (oh she thought, but not felt) much about the past. And then I suddenly realized it is you. It is you, that hates me. It is not some stranger. It is you, that I have betrayed. It is you that looks at me with disgust. And after everything we have been through all we still know what to do, is hurt each other."
He is quiet for some time and she doesn't dare to look at him to gauge his reaction. She stares at her naked thighs.
"I don't hate you. I had just been so… So angry. And so… Seeing your face again… There was no one else…" No one else to be angry at. He looks away.
She realizes suddenly that he really doesn't blame her for thinking him a traitor. No, it's way worse than that. That thing he can't seem to articulate; it's something she can never pay her dues for. Seeing her face again… But not his. Never seeing his face again.
"Wil you ever forgive me?"
"I already told you-"
"That I'm not him. That I'm not James."
"What are you talking about?"
"I wish it were me, too."
"You wish it were you, what?" he asks with trepidation. Something in his voice tells her he already knows her answer.
"I wish it were me that died instead of James."
"Eva-"
"Don't deny it. I know you too, remember? I know how the two of you were. I was there the whole time. He was your other half. He was your balance. He was your best friend. He was your brother. He was your love. He was your everything. Other people in your life? We were just passing by."
It is one thing she has never resented him. James was after all the one who probably saved his life when he befriended him.
"Please-" Does he want to deny it? Or does he just beg her to stop dragging up memories? He gets up suddenly and turns away from her.
"I wish I could give him back to you. I would trade my life for his in a heartbeat," she rushes to tell him, without hesitation.
"And I would trade mine! I don't wish you were dead instead of James! I wish I were." She is just an object he projects his anger onto.
Again, the deadly silence ensues, the only sounds are Sirius' ragged breathing.
"I think about it sometimes," she tells him, her voice almost serene. "I think about how much better it would be if we had died instead of them. Lily and James would live and Harry would have a proper loving family. And I could just stop fighting." It is the first time she admits out loud to her deep-rooted, self-destructively managed, under a self-assured façade hidden, depression. "But it is what it is." She shrugs. "I can't stop fighting now. There is Harry, who I had already failed. And I can't fail him again. He is almost an adult but he might still need me and until he does… I can't stop fighting."
He stares at her for a while and then he nods, more to himself then anything. That's what they have left, Lily and James' legacy and their son to protect. But there is more isn't it?
"You weren't just passing by," he declares suddenly.
"What?"
"You said before that everybody but James was just passing by. We had a special bond, me and Prongs, that's true." He swallows a lump in his throat. "But, so did we, Eva. Or all this wouldn't be so goddamned painful."
Merlin, are they really doing this now? Are they having a heart-to-heart now as she sits on his bed in his bedroom in his t-shirt? While she still has tearstains on her cheeks and her body aches from the wrecking sobs that had been the result of her finally coming to face her painful past and connecting it to present?
Eva shudders where she sits. She can't feel her toes.
"We don't have to talk about this." They were always so bad at talking. At least about important things.
"Obviously we do."
"Why? What is there to talk about? What does it even matter now?" she asks, looking up at him, desperately wishing he stopped.
"I don't know," he almost yells. "But it does. How can you think you never meant anything to me?"
"That's not what I said. Just that compared to James-"
"I always saw you in my future. I didn't think of the future often because it seemed all too soon to me. Like I still have all the time in the world, and I wasn't through with the now as of yet. But whenever the thought came, unbidden and not fully formed, you were always there."
She looks away and she thinks she just shouldn't say anything. But then it just comes flying out of her mouth, almost without her input.
"I didn't want to live my life without you. And that's why I couldn't afford to trust you, you were right. But I also wouldn't be able to forgive you. Not if you had cheated on me. And then it would be all over for us. And I couldn't bare the thought of you not being in my life. So, I took the safe way. I just didn't give you a chance. Not a real chance anyway."
"Did I do something to make you think that I wouldn't be loyal to you?" She gives him a pointed look.
"For one, you never stopped seeing me whenever you had a girlfriend. Granted, they were rare and none of them were serious, but still." It seems petty. It seems so petty now after all those years.
"It was you. None of them were important enough to break it off with you." He grimaces suddenly. "Alright, it might not have been the most gracious thing I ever did. And it might have set the precedent." He sounds more honest with himself, that he wants to be. Eva sighs heavily and gets up to join him, leaning on the other side of the window, crossing one foot over another to warm her toes up.
"It wasn't all your fault. I had my trust issues even without you. I would have found some excuse one way or another. At least that's what Lily said. And she was usually right."
"Lily was always so coldly polite with any girl I even looked at twice." Eva laughs shortly, rubbing her forearms.
"That was for my benefit. Though, I was never really bothered by any of them. I guess I always knew, they will be gone by next week. Or next month, by the latest."
"I guess it was part of your appeal."
"What was?"
"The fact that I couldn't hurt you. That no matter what I did, I knew at the end, you'll always be there." He took her for granted and she should be angry about it but somehow can't make herself resent him that.
"But you could. You could hurt me. With your dangerous secrets and secret missions. With your disregard for your own life."
"It was war," he interjects.
"No. No, Sirius. That's how you always were. Recklessly rushing into danger, risking your life. Like you didn't care what happens to you."
"I … Sometimes I didn't … Sometimes I was so angry …"
"I know. Maybe that was part of your appeal," she mockingly repeats his words. "You were as damaged as I was. I knew perfectly well what kind of environment you came from. It doesn't mean it didn't hurt…" She was a sadomasochistic bitch even then. "And then in those last weeks before- You always guarded your secrets almost jealously but then you excluded me completely. I had no idea what was going on. You barely even looked at me." Her voice breaks.
Back then she was angry and sad, feeling resentful for the first time, that even in those times, he and James have their own secrets. Later, she thought he avoided her so she wouldn't be suspicious about his activities with the Death Eaters. The truth is even more heart-breaking.
"I've seen you with Regulus and I… I assumed… I jumped to conclusions," he says self-disparagingly. "Merlin, why are we talking about this sober?" Beats her. "Maybe if I asked you about it, it would have turned out different. Maybe I would have told you about the switch. Maybe-"
"Don't! Don't do this. Don't play the game of What ifs! And you wouldn't have told me anyway," she says assuredly.
"Why do you say that?" She shrugs.
"You liked your secrets too much." She can't help the bitterness. He looks away, probably knowing how right she is.
"It all seems so childish now."
"Because it was. We were children then. Children, that had to grow up too fast. Children fighting a war. Children forced to pick sides. Children, using Killing curses on other children. But still children." Her lips tremble and she is not sure if from her emotions, so close to the surface or from the cold.
"And now the same is happening to the next generation."
Eva sits back down on the foot of the bed, hugging her knees.
"I wish we could spare them. But somehow, no matter how much Molly might insist on the contrary, I don't think this war can be fought without them. They already have that hardened expression on their faces. Harry especially. And Ginny, touched by such dark magic. The others, too."
Sirius nods to this.
"Do you think they will end up together?"
"Who?"
"Harry and Ginny? Potter men have always liked redheads," he says lightly. Eva rolls her eyes. Talk about bipolar disorder. He was always like that, making a mock out of a serious conversation. She decides to humour him. She could never resist it and at times it seems they are right back to their patterns.
"Why? Because she's a redhead?"
"No. Because she seems like a great girl. Brave, spirited, smart, easy on the eyes." He smirks and Eva shakes her head exasperatedly.
"Ginny is a great girl."
"But?"
"But nothing."
"Come on. There's a but."
"Buuuut, I think in some ways Harry resembles you much more then his father," she says cryptically.
"What's that supposed to mean?" There is a mix of pride and apprehension in his voice.
"The expression bros before hoes mean anything to you?" She raises her eyebrows at him provocatively.
"Oh, come on. Not this again." She laughs lightly but then gets serious again.
"No, listen. I don't mean it in a bad way. Your friends were always the most important thing in your life. And I respected that. I knew how it is to have friends like that. And Harry is the same way, his friends are the most important thing for him. I guess that's what happens when your family provides no support. Your friends become your family. We both know this better then anyone. But Ginny, she is not a girl that will stand on the sidelines."
"You don't think she will understand?"
"Oh, I think she understands perfectly. She understands that she will never be the most important person in Harry's life. She understands, that no matter how much she tries or what they go through together, she will never be a part of their group. But she will want to be someone's most important person in the world. And she deserves it."
"And Harry?"
"And Harry might break the tradition of Potter men marrying redheads." He's still got time. He has all the time in the world. Doesn't he? Sirius chuckles at this and comes to sit beside her again.
"How did you come up with all that? I don't remember you being this… intuitive? Or involved."
"Maybe those maternal instincts are also good for something other than worrying."
"You still think, you'll be only a guest on some potential future party? What do your maternal instincts say about that?" he half teases her.
"You remember that?" He was full of pain potions when they talked about that.
"Kind of hard to forget. So?" He urges when she doesn't answer immediately. Eva thinks back to Harry's hopeful eyes when she offered him to live with her. She smiles.
"I think I might be allowed to pick-up discarded glasses after the said party. If I'm not too old by then. With back pain and knee problems." Sirius laughs loudly with his bark-like laugh and Eva drinks into the sound like a man in the desert. Now that she has gotten over the surprise, all she can think about, is how she wants more of it.
"You're still as weird as ever, Marlowe," he says with sort of wonder in his voice, his eyes searching her face. Does he search for what has remained of Eva Marlowe of his past?
Not much. But… Are there still remnants of her buried under a world of pain and guilt? Does he, like she does sometimes, still find her mannerisms familiar, her eyes flaring with the same fire, when she cares enough, her lips pulling into that crinkly smile?
A huge part of her wishes she could go back to not feeling anything. Only now does she realize how much easier it was to exist. To function. To look at him. Another part of her finally breathes.
And no matter how much easier it was not to look at him, she now can't stop looking. Can't stop looking at the way his black hair, not a trace of grey, curls at his neck. Can't stop looking at the dimple in his cheek that appears when he smiles at her lopsidedly. Can't stop looking into his grey eyes, hunted and full of shadows but intense as ever. She hasn't put on her rose-coloured glasses (not that she ever possessed those), has not overlooked deep lines on his face or his sunken cheeks or his unhealthily pale complexion, but even those cannot camouflage his natural aristocratic good looks. Twelve years of Azkaban and he could still count on his handsomeness. She almost laughs at that.
They continue sitting, side by side, on the bed, looking at each other, Eva hugging her knees and Sirius leaning on his fists when they are interrupted by a knock on the door. Eva looks at the door apprehensively, when Sirius calls for whoever it is, to enter. Seeing Remus, she exhales in relief. He might hover too, but not as much as Molly. She is grateful for what the woman has done for her but right now she isn't ready for her pitying looks.
"Remus." He looks at them assessingly, when he sees them sitting on the bed in, what he surely interprets as amicable atmosphere, but does not comment on it.
"Eva." He averts his eyes from her bare legs respectfully. Eva doesn't really care; he has probably seen her in even less at some time. She was never shy, but Remus Lupin was always a bit of a prude. She can't see Sirius' face but she can feel him smirking at his friend's uneasiness. "How are you feeling?" he asks carefully. Sirius snorts and Eva frowns at him.
Again, with this question. At least this time she has a valid answer.
"Cold." And she is. Despite sitting on it, her arse is frozen. Remus frowns at her.
"Maybe you would be less cold if you put some pants on," he suggests.
"I would if I knew where they are." She gets up and looks around the room but there is no sign of her cloths. She gives a questioning look to Sirius, who has leaned back on his elbows.
"I threw them away."
"Why?"
"They were dirty. You were sick." She was? She can't even remember that.
"Well, you could have put them away to be laundered. Or do you just throw away all the dirty clothes," she grumbles.
"He doesn't," Remus interjects.
"Because Moony refuses to go out and buy me any more."
"I'm not about to buy you new clothes every week just because you are too lazy to do your laundry." Sirius rolls his eyes and Eva smiles at them bickering like an old married couple.
"It's my money."
"That's not the point."
"You can do it then if you're so inclined."
"I'm not doing your laundry." Remus sounds almost offended. They could go on forever.
"Guys, I still need some clothes. I'm freezing."
"Oh, of course." Remus glares at Sirius over her shoulder, whether because he has let her sit around in nothing but her knickers, freezing her arse off or because he is still miffed about Sirius' suggestion to do his laundry, she is not sure. "What can I bring you?"
"There's still a room full of your clothes downstairs," Sirius reminds her. "As far as I know, you still haven't moved out." She has completely forgotten about that. In fact, she was just imagining how she leaves the house in her knickers on full display. Or borrowed male clothes, making the ultimate walk of shame.
"Right. I forgot about that. I'll just go then, put some warm clothes on. Some pants." She says she is leaving but she hesitates where she stands.
Will the bubble burst when she leaves his bedroom? Will they forget all about this conversation? What had they even talked about? Did they say anything concrete? Will he go back to looking at her with disgust that has been absent in the last hour? Will she be able to take it? She has gotten very comfortable with him, let her guard down, and if they go back to how they were before…
Her eyes find Sirius' as he stares back at her.
"You don't have to put anything on, on my account." Remus groans and Eva smiles. In typical Sirius fashion, he has given her his answer.
As she passes Remus, he puts his hand on her shoulder.
"Eva." His worried face looks down at her shivering figure. They understand the guilt they will always carry, without saying anything.
"I'm…" She almost says fine. But he isn't going to believe that. "…better. Really. Maybe I needed that." He studies her for some time, then nods and lets his hand fall from her shoulder. She misses him too. She misses her friends. Loneliness is a bad companion.
"Here." He takes off his robe, offering it to her and Eva takes it, gratefully wrapping herself in the warmth of it. "Kreacher would have a heart attack if he saw you skipping around his mistress' house in only your knickers."
"You should give the robe back to Remus, Marlowe," Sirius suggests pettily.
"I think I already traumatized that elf enough for one lifetime," she laughs, gives one last look at two of her oldest friends and disappears behind the door.
In the hall, the quiet envelops her. Her bare feet rush down the stone floors and over a set of stairs soundlessly. She closes the door of her (temporary) room and leans on them breathlessly. She stares into the empty space for quite some time, her mind completely empty.
Something had changed. She knows it. Not just in the way Sirius acted towards her. Something changed within her. She has done what she had feared the most. She has put herself out there. She has made herself vulnerable. She can only hope it doesn't kill her.
Later, in the privacy of her apartment, dressed in a thick woollen sweater, after she had eaten Molly's soup with Sirius and Remus and then once again failed to pack up her (temporary) room, she reflects on how she has, without thought, offered up her life for James'. She would do it too. And she hasn't even thought about James himself or giving Harry his dad back. She would give up her life so Sirius could have his best friend back. She has doubted she is still capable of love. She was certain she couldn't when she was eleven. It was Lily then, that showed her she could still love. Fourteen years later it was Lily's son that reminded her. And now, she hasn't even given it much thought, hasn't thought about loving him. Why would she? All she has thought about was how much pain there is between them. Not love. But…
She does love him. Despite everything or probably because of it. He was after all the only boy she has ever loved. If she wanted to admit it or not.
Now that, will certainly be the death of her.
Author' note: Resolution is not my strong point but I guess all that drama needs some resolution… All in all, the chapter might feel a bit jumbled and I don't want to come over all pompous about how that's exactly what I was going for (because let's face it; rarely I can write even a single scene, much less the whole chapter, exactly the way I wanted) but I was going for this conversation to be a bit chaotic… And also such, that it leaves some things open… Afterall, not all things in life get resolved…
