Can't stay away
It started out as one visit. One probing tentative visit where Eva Marlowe felt like a giant clumsy fat troll navigating a room full of precariously stacked pottery. Blindfolded. A teacup here and a plate there undeniably crashed but, with some backtracking and a lot of tongue biting, she mostly survived that visit unscathed. Or at least not worse off than before.
It soon turned into a routine. At first, she came every three days, strictly during lunch, brought food and exchanged dirty laundry for clean one. She also slipped a few pieces of male clothes she bought in muggle London in between his clean laundry. She didn't say anything about it to him and refused to dwell on the whys of it. (Or why she practically zoomed through the store, throwing everything from pants to underwear to socks over her elbow and rushed to the check-out counter without a second look at any of the clothes. As if, by not seeing them, she might avoid the reasons for buying it too. She didn't want to explore feelings of pity and nostalgia when standing in front of a clothes' rack. Even the final bill only registered with her when she found the crumpled piece of paper in her purse a few days later. She thought it might be best if she takes Tonks with her on the next shopping spree to keep her in check. Not that Tonks was much help in restraining her when she did her Christmas shopping for Harry.)
Sirius of course noticed the barrage of brand-new clothes, but when he broached the subject, Eva only brushed him off with a joke about owing him for that sweater. Sirius has always liked pretty clothes and as he couldn't go out and buy them himself, she bought them for him. She didn't want this to become a big deal. And luckily, Sirius did not make a big deal (for once) about it and wore almost exclusively the clothes Eva bought for him. His vanity did come in handy every once in a while. Eva breathed in relief. Dodged a bullet.
Every three days soon became every two days and those became almost every day, if only she didn't work double shifts. She soon popped in and out of the house at all hours of the day, almost always bringing some kind of food with her. Sometimes, she stopped in the evening, before her night shift, dropping off a vial of Dreamless Sleep potion. Or she came to eat breakfast after her double shift, nodding off into her coffee. Sirius stared at the bags under her eyes and told her, she didn't need to come every day, but Eva only waved him off, saying Grimmauld Place was on her way to work anyway (which it wasn't, at all) and mentioned nothing about how the visits were cutting into her already hampered sleeping pattern.
Sirius admitted, at least to himself, that he was incredibly lonely in that house. And sometimes he was afraid he will slip right into that infamous Black family madness. If he hadn't already. As such he would have welcomed anyone's presence in the house. (Well, maybe not anyone.) But he was glad it was her. Eva was not a chatty person. She never has been. But she knew just how to fill the overwhelming silence with her soothing voice. She had this sense of when someone wanted to talk something deep or when it was time to tell half a dozen hospital anecdotes. She could tell when someone wanted her to back off (not that she always complied) or how to prompt a person to open up. She could also sit with her crossword for two hours, asking occasional question while he lounged in an armchair, lost in his thoughts.
They didn't talk a lot about their past because it was just too painful. Occasionally a funny story of their friends found its way to them, or a sharp memory pierced their reality but none of them wanted to sit there reminiscing while they looked at each other. Sometimes they talked about Harry, but that was a topic that surely led to drinking and Eva; she never drank more than one glass in his presence. Less she forgot to hold her tongue. And sometimes, inevitably, they slipped right back into their trademark flirty banter. And those were the times Eva felt most true, unfiltered, and young. She felt like a young woman she often forgot she was.
Upon returning from the mission, Remus was at first surprised and wary of Eva's presence but soon got used of it. Besides, how could he resent her presence when Sirius seemed to be doing so much better. Remus noticed his clean ironed clothes and how his gaunt face seemed to have filled out some. His homeless vibe took a backseat and Remus was just so grateful that the heavy burden of keeping his oldest friend alive didn't befall solely upon his shoulders. He was also in much better spirits and Remus could have wept that he didn't have to deal with his constant moodiness. That is not to say, Sirius was exactly pleasant to be around all the time, but at least Remus didn't dread the consequences of a horrible hangover every morning. Also, Eva always brought food for all of them. Remus was a decent chef, but it was still a relief, that he didn't have to think about that on top of everything.
As a bonus (not that Remus would admit thinking this in a million years), some evenings, Eva also brought along Nymphadora Tonks, after the latter complained about feeling neglected. Tonks was absolutely smitten with Remus, and Eva sometimes just had to turn away in embarrassment for her friend. She couldn't watch her simper over him. And Remus himself did nothing to discourage her. Sirius sometimes gave Eva an incredulous look, but she just rolled her eyes.
"What the hell is that?" Sirius hisses one day, following her into the pantry, where she has gone to find something sweet (and take a respite). "I can't watch this anymore. They should just get a room."
Eva sighs, annoyed. "I know, right? She is usually such a pleasant, intelligent young woman. A bit mad, but that is to be expected what with the family she comes from."
"Hey!" Sirius protests. Eva gives him a pointed look. "Alright, yeah," he concedes.
"And don't even get me started on Remus. He better not claim he has not encouraged her in her affections later on, when things get serious. Because I kill will him if he hurts her," she growls.
"You think he would do that?"
"Don't you know him at all? That's what he always did. It was all funny anecdotes, charming smiles, flirty banter and flattering comments until it wasn't. Until one day he decided it has gone too far and that, whatever girl it was, deserved better, that he couldn't offer anyone anything and then he cut her off completely," she whispers furiously.
"Really? He did that?"
"Yes! How don't you know that?"
Sirius shrugs. "Okay, but that was fifteen years ago. Don't you think he has changed since then? Grown up?"
Eva gives him a doubtful look. "Maybe."
"Besides, Tonks already knows he's a werewolf. I don't think she minds."
"Of course, she doesn't mind." She gives him a look, like she thinks him stupid. "It is him, that minds. He thinks himself inferior. It was always him that was the problem."
"That's not fair. There's a lot of prejudice about werewolves in the wizarding world. He is right to be wary. People hadn't always been kind to him."
"Maybe so, but with people, that have accepted him as he is, have proven our loyalty to him, he shouldn't be grateful for our acceptance. He should be grateful that he has met decent people, not wait for the other shoe to drop. And how is anyone going to change their mind about werewolves if even he doesn't believe himself to be worthy of friends and education and jobs and equality and medical care and love?! If he wants more rights, he should go out and take them!" Eva runs a hand through her hair in frustration.
Sirius stares at her in wonder. "You sound like Lily."
Eva gives him a shaky breathless laugh. "Lily would tell it to his face, not whisper yell it, hiding in the pantry." And one day, one day she will tell him. She will gather her Gryffindor courage (or her anger) and tell him. "Speaking of, we really should get out of this pantry. Merlin knows, what they think we're doing here."
Sirius leers at her. "Well, I've never done it in the pantry before."
Eva snorts, but grabs a box of sweets from the shelf, and leaves, brushing past him. "Dream on."
Occasionally, an odd Order member would stop by to drop something off and as the atmosphere seemed livelier and less like the house is about to explode with its owner's tension, some, like Bill, Mundungus, Emmeline, even Kingsley were prone to return for a visit just for the sake of it. And Eva encouraged this most enthusiastically even if most raised their eyebrows at her continuous presence and her not so subtle attempts to not seem like a hostess of the house but still make them feel hospitable.
"Do sit down Bill. I am dying to hear about your adventures in Egypt. Sirius was just about to make tea."
"I was?" He glares at her. Sirius hates tea.
"You were." A hiss and a pointed glare.
"Fine. Tea."
"It's not really necessary-" Bill is not much of a tea person either.
"Nonsense!" Eva exclaims before leaning in conspiringly. "I'll make sure it's with a splash of Ogden's."
"All right then." That's not so bad.
"Now then- Sirius, that one is not big enough for three. Use the blue kettle." He changes the kettles with a lot of aggressive banging. "The tea is on the right of the sink. The right! The other right!" A murderous glare. "You could at least remember where things are in your own kitchen." He rolls his eyes. "Not the one in the purple box. I think it's going bad. Take the yellow box."
"Why don't you just do it yourself?" he asks through gritted teeth.
"Why would I? It's your kitchen. Do whatever you want." She crosses her arms over her chest. "And don't leave it more than three minutes. It gets bitter."
Bill nearly dies holding in his laughter from watching Eva Marlowe grip the edge of the table, so she physically prevents herself from taking over. The next time he stops there, Eva makes him tea herself.
Eva does her best to ignore everyone's curious looks (or gives them challenging looks when particularly annoyed). And she does so for Sirius who has always been a social person and while some human presence seemed to do wonders for him in the last month or so, she is of the opinion he needs more than her. He needs to be in the middle of the things, he needs action, needs to be involved somehow. And at the moment the best he can get is people stopping by and making him feel involved. People around him seem to sooth his restlessness at least for the time being. As seen previously, left to his own devices, he could either slip into depression and alcoholism or worse, one day do something reckless and stupid that would get him killed.
To Eva's satisfaction, the beginning of March finally brings along the long-anticipated Order meeting. Not that Eva is particularly excited about the meeting itself, but the meeting means Dumbledore and Dumbledore means Harry's letters.
She arrives to Grimmauld Place midmorning, right after her twenty-four-hour shift. She has plenty of time to go home and catch a few hours of much needed sleep, but she is just too jittery to rest. Upon her arrival, she is surprised to discover Molly Weasley has taken over the kitchen. She should have expected it as they had had dinner after every single meeting until then. It had simply slipped her mind. And once Molly sees her it is too late to back out. Not that she minds Molly, but the woman sometimes makes her feel like a little girl under a watchful disapproving eye of her mother. Sirius, the cad, has obviously already made himself scarce.
Eva also can't imagine she can spend the next few hours staring into the air or pacing around the kitchen anxiously or even worse, having deep conversation, which Molly seems to like to instigate ever since that breakdown, so she offers her help with cooking. And spends the next few hours miserably stirring the sauce, grating the cheese, washing the salad, peeling the potatoes and, gasp, even cutting the carrots under Molly's watchful eye. She does remember to ask Molly for instructions on how to operate the laundry box. Molly gives her a curious wide look.
"What?" Eva snaps. "He is not going to learn and I'm sick of hauling loads of laundry over to my apartment and back. And I can't just watch him-" Her throat tightens, and she closes her eyes. A soft hand strokes her thick hair, putting a straying lock behind her ear.
"A woman's job is thankless, but she does what she must to protect the ones she loves. Even if it is just housework." Molly sometimes overwhelms her, but she also understands what no one else does. Not even herself. She raises her eyes, bright and wet and pleading guidance.
"I hate housework. And even worse, I am bad at it," she complains. Molly smiles at her.
"Come dear, I'll show you how the box works. You just have to be firm with it."
Remus joins them sometime in the afternoon and even Sirius comes into the kitchen about an hour before the meeting. Their eyes meet and she knows he has the same thing on his mind as she has. His fingers keep tapping the table restlessly and he is so distracted he doesn't even notice Molly's double take at his appearance. Eva doesn't blame her; it is quite a dramatic transformation from when she last saw him, and he was slipping back into greasy hair and smelly clothes.
Obviously anticipating their eagerness, Albus Dumbledore arrives about twenty minutes before anyone else, but he probably still doesn't expect them to pounce onto the letters in his hand like a pair of rabid dogs. Molly starts suggesting they leave the letters for after the meeting but saves her breath as Eva has already flung away the peeling knife (Really now!?) and ripped open the envelope.
Not even realizing she has slowly sunk into the nearest chair, Eva pours over the words on the parchment, trying to decipher Harry's emotions. At first glance his words drip with bitterness, and Eva painfully digs her fingernails into her palms, her face unreadable.
She can't blame him for being bitter as he mentions the Azkaban breakout, that has been on all of their minds for weeks (…to think that crazy woman is free on the streets, it gives me chills… poor Neville…) or the Ministry (…bloody wankers! Blaming Sirius when they know full well…) or his delightful professors (Umbitch put Hagrid on probation! She is slowly taking away everything that makes Hogwarts enjoyable! …first Quidditch… for once Snape is not the most hated professor… his usual charming self… useless Occlumency, making my head hurt…) or sitting on the sidelines as Gryffindor loses quite spectacularly with half of their team then between all that, there are snippets of something else. Something upbeat, something so unbelievably Harry. (…if it wasn't for DA… you should have seen Neville's determination, that Shield Charm was brilliant… soon move onto the Patronus Charm… thank Merlin, Ginny caught the snitch so fast, she is good, but would be a better Chaser… Fred and George playing Exploding Snap in class and Lee Jordan apparently told her she is violating her own degree as teachers are only allowed to talk to students about things related to their subjects…)
Then there is the subject of Harry's Valentine date with some girl named Cho. Disbelievingly, (that he would even casually mention, he might like somebody, much less give her almost word for word account of the event) she unconsciously rubs her forehead as she continues to read Harry's rushed (as if he needs to get it off his chest) almost outraged clipped sentences about Cho's constant tears and her annoying wish to talk about her dead boyfriend and her irrational anger when he suggested they meet up with Hermione (the latter seemed to have somewhat explained the other girl's jealousy) and how he wishes girls just spoke their mind instead of expecting him to just know what they're thinking. Too focused on the letter in hand, Eva doesn't hear Sirius' snort as he reaches roughly the same lines she is reading.
The letter ends on a strange note with Harry telling her she should buy the next issue of the Quibbler.
"I know it is a newspaper celebrating the lives of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks and proclaiming Sirius Black to be a singing sensation Stubby Boardman, but you should really get the next copy. You might not be all that pleased with me. Actually, you'll probably even get mad and yell at me. But it is done now. And it was Hermione's idea, really. Not that I think you should scold her instead but just so you know… But don't worry, though."
Yes, Harry, way to make me not worry.
She finishes reading the letter with raised eyebrows, and then just stares for a while as if more words may appear if she looks at it long enough.
"Is everything alright, Eva?" Albus asks kindly. She looks up to see Sirius and Remus are already discussing something, probably Harry's letter, while Molly listens to them intently and Albus is looking at her.
"Yeah," she mutters. "A newspaper actually published you are really Stubby Boardman?" is the first thing out of her mouth, her voice strangely detached, directing her question at Sirius. He chuckles.
"That they did. Kingsley brought me the article a few months ago. It gave me a laugh. I still have it somewhere; I'll find it for you to read later."
She nods mechanically, not really aware what she is actually saying or agreeing to, her mind still on the letter in her hand. What has that boy gotten himself into, this time? "He really should be called Stuffy Boring not Stubby Boardman. The dullest shag I ever had," she comments apathetically.
"Eva!" Molly's shriek makes her jump in her seat, finally bringing her to her senses.
"What? Am I not allowed to say shag, now? We are all adults here, aren't we?" she asks rhetorically.
"Honestly." Molly rolls her eyes, picking up the peeling knife, Eva is all too happy never to see again, and attacks the potatoes on the table. Eva looks around the table to see only Albus's twinkling eyes under his half-moon spectacles as the rest of his face hides in an enormous teacup, Sirius' amused smirk and Remus' horrified wide glare.
"What, Remus?"
"You dated Stubby Boardman?"
"In a manner of speaking." Those were not good times for Eva. She doesn't remember all that much as she wasn't all that sober in those years. She wasn't sober ever.
"And you don't find that sick and twisted?"
"Whatever for? I did have a life you know!" Of sort.
"You just said they mistook Stubby Boardman for Sirius," he says through clenched teeth as if she is being deliberately obtuse. And maybe she is. "So, they are obviously very alike."
"Not all that much. They may be somewhat similar in looks." She doesn't say how through her foggy mind, they were practically one person. How sometime her reality shifted and poor Stubby took the brunt of it. "Otherwise, he was a total mama's boy."
"Not something you can say about me, right Moony?" Mommy issues, anyone? Sirius nudges Remus playfully, obviously not nearly as perturbed by the new information as his friend. Remus gives him a disgusted look.
"Didn't last long anyway. He was very clingy." And, if she wants to be honest with herself, she only kept him around to abuse him, as there was no way to express her anger with the real thing, after all. In her defence, he did write his best songs when he was with her. A tortured artist and all that.
She hasn't ever denied she is a sadomasochistic bitch, has she?
Ignoring Remus' outrage, she turns her focus to Sirius. "Anything interesting?" She nods pointedly to the folded letter in front of him.
"You want to swap?" he asks, picking the latter up. She thinks for a moment. She is desperate to read more of Harry's words.
"Did he write to you about the Valentine's Day?" she asks, not wanting to mistakenly reveal something, Harry doesn't want to tell him. Sirius nods, smirking. "Alright then."
They exchange the letters, and this time Eva reads much slower, savouring the words. The letters are basically identical, with Sirius' containing a few more choice words about bloody annoying and irrational women, that can't make up their minds and expect impossible from him. His letter, though it also ends with a suggestion to buy the next issue of the Quibbler, contains none of the nervous rambling about how he might get angry and such. Harry obviously expects no scolding from Sirius. Figures. It is all too obvious who is the nay-sayer in their little… family? Is that what they are?
"Well, he has obviously pegged you as the discipliner around here," Sirius tells her with a smirk, coming to the same conclusion as her.
"Whatever gave him that idea?" she asks sarcastically. But she doesn't actually mind. Not really.
"Hey, I was always the fun godfather. You were the one making him eat broccoli. And banning all the fun."
"I was not banning fun," she protests. "And I wouldn't always have to be the bad guy if you were capable of saying NO."
"No."
Eva scowls at him, aiming a kick under the table. Unfortunately, she has terrible aim. Remus grimaces, pushing away from the range of flailing limbs.
"Could you two be any more childish?" Remus asks exasperated. They turn to him and as if orchestrated stick out their tongues at him. He rubs his temple while Eva and Sirius do a mental high-five. It is always fun to mess with Remus. Albus hides his smile behind his trusted cup and even Molly has to purse her lips to hide a smile.
The playful atmosphere of course can't last forever as the meeting is about to start and what better to bring the mood down than the arrival of a surly hook-nosed Potions Master.
"Severus," Remus greets politely and Eva too, gives him a courteous nod. Sirius, predictably, only sneers in recognition. Snape inclines his head at Eva, Molly and Albus, and reluctantly, even at Remus. His ugly sneer as he catches sight of Sirius, is unsurprising.
Snape sits himself on the chair farthest from Sirius (and all of them really), all the while glaring ferociously.
Eva clears her throat, forcing a smile. "Severus, you see Harry most of all of us," she starts as if he had been part of their previous conversation.
"Lucky me," mutters Snape, and Eva's smile falters for a moment. She swallows but decides to ignore the remark.
"How have the Occlumency lessons been going?"
"Didn't Potter tell you?" He eyes the letters on the table pointedly, distaste evident in his pinched lips. "I'm sure he complained about how unfairly he is treated."
"He didn't, actually." Eva's smile turns icy. From the corner of her eye, she can see Molly's hands still at her tone. "Should he?"
Harry hasn't said much about Snape, she realizes. Not more than usual, and thinking about it, Eva frowns. She can just guess what Harry is thinking. He has seen both, her and Sirius' tempers and Eva has a feeling he hasn't said much for fear of either of them (especially Sirius) storming to Hogwarts to defend him. She feels annoyed. With herself. And Sirius.
"I'm sure poor pampered Potter would find something to complain about. I, after all, have no intention to bow to him like the rest of the wizarding world," he informs them haughtily. She can feel Sirius vibrate with anger. And hear Remus's muffled growl. Even Molly scoffs at that.
"I'm sure Harry would settle for speaking civilly," she informs him through gritted teeth. Now he is just pissing her off. She knows it is mostly due to Remus' and especially Sirius' presence, as the few times she has spoken to him privately, he has managed to respond in civil if not pleasant manner. Still, this is her godson, he is speaking off. "Now, are you planning on answering my question? How are the lessons proceeding?"
Snape seems about ready for another insult or maybe an outright rebuttal to tell her anything, but swallows whatever poison was about to spurt from his mouth at Albus' gentle reprimanding cough. Eva jumps in her seat, having almost forgotten about his presence.
"Abysmal," he finally answers in his patent dry tone. "As can be expected from a brat lacking subtlety and discipline," he sneers.
"As can be expected from an emotional teenager without any previous experience," Albus interjects immediately, apparently sensing his Potions Master is about to be hexed. Or noticing Sirius grip his wand under the table. "But a lot of room for improvement. He just needs practice and guidance."
"And he's the best person for that?" Sirius asks with contempt, pointing his chin at Snape.
"We have already discussed this, Sirius. As I cannot teach Harry, Severus is the only option. Besides, it might be good for Harry to learn to trust Severus, what with the dark times that are coming," Albus answers, giving one of his twinkly-eye smiles to Snape. He gives the headmaster an incredulous look, that is shared by nearly everyone in the room.
Luckily, further discussion is thwarted by the arrival of a large group of loud Order members, who are found to be excellent buffers in a tense situation, that was on the verge to becoming a wizard duel. Still, Sirius and Snape continue to glare at each other through the entirety of the meeting that seems to drag on. Eva finds herself barely stifling many yawns as they discuss the consequences of the Azkaban break-out at length and organize patrol in the Department of Mysteries. As if they ever do anything else.
As the meeting is officially adjourned, the kitchen immediately erupts with loud noises from chairs scraping on the floor, Molly banging with the pans, putting last touches on dinner, and enthusiastic conversations among various members.
Eva sighs to herself; she is tired and not particularly keen on small talk. Nor does she feel like helping with dinner anymore. Still, she reluctantly gets up and starts clearing the table. She offers Sirius' letter, that was still on her side of the table, back to him.
"Here, it's almost identical, but give me mine back." Sirius reluctantly looks away from Snape (as was her intention) and complies to her request.
"Yes, identical but that paragraph about the absurdity of women," he says with a smirk. Eva gives him a dark look. "I really should address his girl problems in the next letter as he felt the need to include a lengthy rant about it, especially for me."
"You are going to give him advice about girls?" Eva asks incredulously.
Sirius looks mighty offended. "Who better than me?"
"Practically everyone," she bites out.
"I had girls falling at my feet left and right when I was his age!"
"As if Harry would want random girls falling at his feet!" She exclaims, outraged at Harry's expense.
"What teenaged boy wouldn't?" Sirius asks, with an expression, that clearly says, he thinks her naïve and positively mad. (She can't tell if he's joking or not.) At the same time a strange derisive sound escapes Snape's throat, and Eva whips her head to focus her glare from Sirius to Snape.
"Did you want to say something, Severus?" She asks, her words coming out clipped. She hasn't wanted to include him. She has actually hoped to distract Sirius from his presence. And maybe she has hoped to also distract herself. But the sound he has made, irks something inside her.
Snape seems to hesitate in the face of her burning eyes, but the reluctance is wiped off his face at the sight of Sirius watching him with narrowed eyes, waiting to pounce.
Snape smirks maliciously. "I'm sure Potter would just love all that attention. Remarkably like his father, strutting around, flaunting his Quidditch talents as if that is something of importance, thinking himself above the rest…"
Severus Snape has never been a pleasant character, but Sirius really did bring out the worst of him. Not that Sirius fared any better in Snape's presence. Eva tries to see it from both of their perspectives. And she does sympathize with the both of them. Sometimes. To a point. For the most part she is just so annoyed, she wishes to hold them by their necks and bang their heads together. Trying to hold any kind of a civilized conversation with both of them in the same room is damn near impossible.
"Severus," Albus says warningly. But it is too late. It is not only Sirius, flying out of his chair, who wants to pummel him at this. Half of the room is glaring at him, fingering their wands, and Eva, despite knowing he is carefully choosing his words to maximize the effect, wants to put her hands around his neck and wring the life out of him.
"Are you really so unobservant? What kind of spy are you?" Eva hisses, unable to hold her tongue. "Haven't you noticed Harry doesn't want any of this? Are you so blinded by prejudice and old grudges?"
"Maybe he isn't a spy. Maybe he is just a regular Death Eater," Sirius growls gleefully and Eva realizes she has opened up the ground for him perfectly. He couldn't wait to accuse him of still being a Death Eater.
"You would like that, wouldn't you, Black? Would that make you feel less useless, sitting around your mommy's house?" Snape taunts. Sirius' face twists uglily, and Eva holds her breath in petrified anticipation.
"As if you have been of any use, grovelling at Voldemort's feet. It seems the only information we have about him came from Harry and his night visions."
"The boy-"
"The boy really is an image of his father, isn't he? Why so bitter, Snivellus? Are you still jealous of a dead man?" Sirius asks with a malicious grin. "He did have everything you wanted; the looks, the brain, the fame, the girl."
Eva doesn't see blood drain from Snape's face or Albus frown disapprovingly, nor does she hear Remus hiss Sirius' name into his ear warningly. All she can see is Sirius' warped expression, a cruel twist of his mouth, madness shining from his eyes. At the moment he is the epitome of a Black heir. And he is the man, no, the animal raging from that picture in Daily Prophet. And she is disgusted by him. And she hates him. God, she hates him, and she pities him, and she probably loves him too. And she wishes James were alive to knock some sense into him. He would know how to pull him away from darkness.
She is only half aware of raised voices, surprised exclamations, drawn wands and Snape storming out of the house. Even the angry, hissed conversation between Sirius and Remus seems far away. They both have angry expressions on their faces, Remus more disappointed, almost hurt, and Sirius defiant, mixed with guilt. Sirius crosses his arms, looking away and, Remus, uncharacteristically, is the one, that summons a bottle of firewhiskey. As he pours, Eva's eyes follow the bottle like hypnotized.
Merlin, she wants a drink. She wants it badly. She needs it, like she hadn't in weeks. But not here… No, she doesn't want to look at other people. She can't be here. Because she knows herself. And she will say something and then everything will go to hell. All those times she has managed to keep her mouth shut will be wasted. She knows, that when the anger penetrates her haze, (and it will, no doubt) she will ruin everything.
And she doesn't just want one glass. She wants the whole bottle. She wants oblivion.
"Where are you going?" Remus sounds accusing. And loud.
Eva freezes in her tracks. "The meeting is over," she states.
"So?" He gulps down his drink, slams his glass on the table and gives her a challenging look. She knows what he wants, but she will not let him bully her. She will not say anything to him. Sirius is not her responsibility. Hadn't he wanted them to be on civil terms just a few weeks ago?
"So, I am going home because I am tired. Do you have a problem with this?" she asks just as challengingly.
"Of course not," he says mockingly.
She grits her teeth. "Good. Good night." As she leaves, she barely notices Tonks' eyes flicking from one to another in worry, or Molly, giving wary glances over her shoulder.
Not even once does she look at Sirius.
She is seven drinks down at the first pub she has found, when a guy sides next to her at the bar. He is decent looking, has a certain easy wit about him and most importantly, buys her a drink. She thinks about it, considers it for a moment, even wishes for sweet oblivion and easiness, that would come with it. No conflicted emotions, no painful memories creeping upon her, no cruel words, no crushing realizations. So easy. So simple.
But in the harsh morning light, the self-hatred and disgust will lurk under the raging headache, crushing everything good left within her. Still, if she could just be someone without a past for a few hours. If she could just forget, lose herself in this boy… So easy…
In the end, she excuses herself to the loo and leaves through the back door. She drinks an entire bottle of firewhiskey on her couch and then proceeds to puke her guts out until past noon, when she continues dry heaving for another hour.
There is nothing left in her body, but even when her stomach settles and her skin stops prickling uncomfortably, she still feels like she's about to burst. Burst with unresolved emotions and unsaid words.
Returning to work in the afternoon, she is still spitting blood as her oesophagus burns through her lungs. Anyone else would just go on sick leave. Eva Marlowe pushes through like a woman on a mission. She doesn't leave the hospital for two whole days. It causes many raised eyebrows as she has been cutting down on crazy inhuman hours in the last few months, but nobody dares to utter a word as Healer Marlowe is in a towering temper. As she vents her frustrations upon her unsuspecting co-workers and even an occasional patient, Nurse Janice gives her a pointed look on three separate occasions, Healer Aldridge scurries out of the hospital on urgent matters and Healer Pye considers if it would not be best to return to Serious Bites department under Healer Smethwyck's tutelage. And that is saying something as Healer Pye has taken to worship the ground Healer Marlowe walks on.
She stops gulping down Pepper-up potions like they are going out of style after two days and crashes in the on-call room for a few hours. Waking up late in the afternoon, she knows it is high time she visited Grimmauld Place. She sighs deeply, turning on her back and stretching her taut muscles. She stares at the ceiling, visualizing how it might go and what he might say and what she should say. She wonders if they will just ignore her glaring almost three-day absence. Or will he put her on a spot, expose her, dig words out of her throat? Will he be looking for a fight? Can she resist if he does?
Sighing again, she sits on the edge of the bed, dragging her hands through her mated hair. A glance in the mirror reveals matching shiny skin, pimples on her chin and burst capillaries under her eyes. She closes her eyes. One day, the alcohol is going to do you in, Marlowe. She is not even properly horrified, only managing a self-deprecating smile.
A part of her wishes to retreat to the peace and quiet of her flat, where she can sit down with a glass of wine, minding her own business and just not caring. She could just go back to how her life was six months ago. Could she really? She sighs again. Not when a part of her (however small at the moment) needs to see him. When a part of her wonders if he has eaten or slept, if he talked to anybody but that psychotic portrait or even more psychotic House elf, if he has already drank himself to death.
Of course, she can't go back to how things were before she knew he was innocent. The simple fact is, she wouldn't be able to stay away even if he was fed and nightmare free and sane and well-adjusted. As if she could ever stay away.
She showers, washes her hair, applies a few potions to her skin and puts on a Glamour Charm. A façade is on, and she is ready to face the world. And while she might convince the world, Sirius won't be fooled for a second.
