These were lonely times. Lonely, isolated times. The war had been going on for far too long, and with all the issues at hand, they were encouraged not to trust each other. Not even within the order. Sirius didn't like it. James, Lily and Harry were still in hiding, because Voldemort believed the words of some moronic prophecy and was after Sirius' one-year-old godson. They had murdered Marlene last month, along with her entire family, and Dorcas had died seeking vengeance for her girlfriend. Sirius didn't see Remus or Peter much anymore, either, and while he assumed they were sent off on secret missions – he could never really know. He saw Regulus, sometimes, when he'd been asked to help with the bloody horcruxes – another mission Dumbledore required them to keep secret. Ever since his idiot little brother had tried to go destroy that first horcrux on his own, and Sirius had come with him to that hellcave, Dumbledore had thought it a good idea for the two of them to take care of the remaining ones as well (although nobody really knew how many there were).
And then there was Fawley. Fawley, who he hadn't talked to properly in over a year. Not since the wedding, when she had kicked him out of the bathroom after he had full and properly taken advantage of her when she was clearly drunk and heartbroken. Not that he had been particularly sober or happy himself, but nevertheless. He didn't blame her for not wanting anything to do with him after that. He blamed himself for that. He had finally managed to fuck it up once and for all, managing with what had seemed to be her concern all along; treating her like one of his slags. He had heard those words from her countless times, spat out in disgust, in anger. And he hadn't listened. No, instead he got pissed at her ex boyfriend's wedding and fucked her in the bloody loo. Like one of his slags.
This whole ordeal had led him to one major understanding. She was too good for him. He probably should've seen that way back from the start, but he'd had been a stupid, smug teenager back then. At seventeen, despite her being involved with his best friend, he had still deluded himself that somehow, someday, he was going to get her. He hated himself for that, too. For trying so damn hard, when she was clearly hurting. Come to think of it, he had been taking advantage of her, or at least trying to, all along – and he needed to stop. He needed to let go of any delusions he had left of the two of them together.
A weak knock pulled Sirius out of his agonizing state of mind, forcing the worn twenty-one-year-old to get out of the sofa and answer the door, but as he did he could've sworn he was dreaming. He wasn't sure what he had expected, or rather who, as people generally didn't knock on his door. But he sure as hell hadn't expected a teary-eyed, silvery blonde girl standing in the hall.
"Fawley, hey. Um… come in," he managed, biting his bottom lip as he stepped aside to let her in.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know where else to go," the girl sobbed, hastily wiping the tears from her cheeks and stepping in. She looked completely broken down, this time, and he couldn't stand seeing her like that.
"What's wrong?" he asked carefully, stopping himself from reaching out to touch her. He gestured towards the sofa and followed her over to sit down next to her.
"It's absurd. I shouldn't even be upset about this," she laughed, out of the sudden, grimacing and turning her dejected gaze to the floor again.
"Hey, let me get you some tea, alright?" he asked, earning a small nod from the sniffling blonde, who wrapped herself tightly in a blanket despite the damn heatwave that insufferable August of 1981.
Sirius soon returned with two cups of tea, handing her one and sitting down next to her again.
"Herbal," he explained with a low voice, scratching his neck as he tried to make sense of the situation. It had to have been almost two years since she last set foot in his apartment, that New Year's Eve when everyone had been fine, and they had almost kissed.
"He finally got himself killed," she swallowed, breathing in the fumes of her tea, slowly and steadily.
"Augustus," she sobbed, before he could even bring himself to ask who had died this time, having feared the worst. Her brother had died, and for a second, Sirius found himself wondering who had gotten to him (perhaps Moody, or the Prewetts). How disgusting was that? There was no immediate compassion, only another target taken down, likely by one of his friends.
He quietly remembered his Hogwarts years, first suspecting, and then finding out that Regulus had taken the mark. As much as he had wanted to, as much as he tried, he hadn't been able to stop caring for his brother – his brother the death eater. If something had happened to Regulus, even then, Sirius would've never been able to forgive himself. And Aurelia had always been that much better than him, loving her family endlessly, no matter what they did to her. And now her heart was breaking, for a death eater, and it broke him to see.
"I'm sorry," the raven-haired man mumbled, glancing up between dark curls to meet reddened grey eyes, both furious and devastated all at once.
"Don't be. He was a monster," she managed in response, sniffling, as her face tensed up in a determined grimace with the struggle to keep from breaking down again.
"He was there, at the McKinnon's," she continued, retorting to breathe her tea-fumes again, a stoic, firm expression on her face, one she had undoubtedly learned from her cold mother.
"Fawley… it's okay to mourn. He was your brother, first, wasn't he?"
"No. I mourned that boy a month ago, he was already dead to me."
Sirius didn't want to imagine it; losing his brother. Either of them, no matter the circumstances. It was, per definition, unimaginable. Seeing the pain hidden behind her eyes, though, he had no choice but to imagine it. He swallowed down on the thick lump in his throat and took a sip of his tea, holding back the stubborn tears that burned him, at the idea of losing Regulus or James.
"Aur-"
"How are you?" she interrupted, changing the subject as soon as she had collected herself.
"How am I? That's… that's what we're talking about now?" he asked, releasing a slight laugh at the absurdity of the situation.
"Yes. How are you doing?"
"I… I'm coping," he swallowed, setting down his cup on the coffee table.
"How's… the baby?"
"Harry is amazing. They're still in hiding, and he could do with some company, but so far, I think James gets more restless. I haven't seen them in a while though."
"You look tired," the girl deducted. She looked tired, too. It wasn't odd, with everything going on, all the deaths they had suffered, all the relationships shattered because of this bloody war.
"I am," he admitted, taking a deep breath. "I just hope this war is over soon."
"Me too."
"I should probably get going. Thank you for the tea," Aurelia said hastily, back on her feet in a matter of seconds.
"I'm glad you stopped by," the boy responded, cringing at how formal they had become. It didn't seem like them. The distance, the controlled conversation. But then again, he would take this over not seeing her at all, in a heartbeat.
"Me too."
"You do know that you're always welcome here, right? And you don't have to knock the next time. I have a floo connection, you know," he grinned, realizing it was probably the first time he had smiled all week.
"I… thank you," the blonde finally replied, after a moment's hesitation. He wondered if she would ever take him up on the offer, floo in unexpectedly for a cup of tea, or dinner, or a hug.
"Hey, Fawley," he called out, getting out of the sofa to follow her on her way to the front door.
"Yes?" she turned around, curious, icy eyes meeting his.
"I'm sorry. About last time. I really am-"
"Do you think… can we just put that behind us?" she asked, chewing on the inside of her lip, as though he had made her uncomfortable by just bringing it up.
"Yeah… good idea," he agreed, scratching the back of his neck where he stood, opposed to her in the hall, feeling much further away than the mere seven feet between them.
"See you 'round, Fawley."
"Take care, Sirius."