The Owlery
'...and it's all just making me feel really down at the moment.
Really wish I could come home for a bit. The Christmas holidays can't come quick enough. If I can just make it through next week.
Hope everything is good with you anyway.
Miss you loads,
Love, Chel xxxx'
I finished off the letter to my mum and folded it into an envelope.
During the year I'd spent in a Muggle school we had done practically everything together. And though I'd missed her a lot over the last few months back at Hogwarts, none of it compared to how I felt right then.
With everything that had gone on lately it felt like a huge weight was on my shoulders, dragging me further into the ground.
I kind of hoped she might be able to make me feel better about what had happened with Ant. Or at least shed some motherly logic on the whole Professor Mison/Military situation.
I'd even written about the tournament briefly, in the chance she might be proud of me for how I'd coped with it.
Sure, I'd made a complete arse of myself on the last small hurdle, but everything else I'd managed to get through almost completely on my own using my own knowledge of magic and quick-thinking.
It was one thing I had to thank the God-awful Military for; he had inadvertently made me realise I was more capable than I'd ever imagined.
Making my way out of the bedroom I went downstairs. The rest of the girls had gone to watch the Gryffindors 6pm Quidditch practice, giving Lily a chance to get all doe-eyed about James's low-light flying techniques.
It was Sunday, and I hoped the air would have cleared enough for things to go back to normal with us all by tomorrow. Skipping lessons to hide out in the bedroom wasn't really an option.
Forgetting to take a coat, I folded my arms across my chest as I made the walk to the Owlery, still gripping the letter tightly in my hand. My favourite chenille jumper was warm, but not quite warm enough to stave away the chill of the December evening air.
When I finally reached the open archway of the tall, softly hooting building and looked inside I stopped still.
No, no, no.
Turning immediately on my heel, I went to walk back the same way I had come, letting out a steady stream of swear words in my head as I did.
"Cheryl?" Sirius's voice came from inside the building before I had chance to get out of sight.
He was standing next to one of the owl's wall nooks, as if about to send a letter.
Contemplating carrying on and pretending I couldn't hear him, I knew there just wasn't enough distance between us to make it believable.
'What are you are doing here?" he asked when I had no choice but to turn around to face him.
I held up my letter as proof I wasn't a stalker.
He frowned. "Were you just going to leave without posting it?"
When I didn't say anything he gave me a wry smile.
"Not trying to avoid me by any chance?"
"No," I replied, though I didn't sound very convincing.
He looked at me knowingly. "Wouldn't have anything to do with a certain dream, would it?"
I felt like pushing my fingers into my eye sockets, just to give me a feeling that wasn't abject humiliation.
"I take it he told you then?" I realised it was pointless trying to deny it now.
Sirius looked almost surprised, as if he still hadn't really expected me to own up to it.
"Part of me thought he'd made it up to be honest," he admitted. "Prongs can have a pretty warped sense of humour. It was only after you spent all weekend avoiding us that I started to think it might actually be true."
He pulled one of the sleeves of his loose black jumper back up to his elbow from where it had fallen slightly, looking dishevelled in the same way a rock star might.
"Then there was the fact you could barely look me in the eye at lunch yesterday," he added with a tilt of his head.
I thought back, annoyed that it was my own behaviour that had confirmed it for him. If I could've just played it cool he might never have been sure.
"Can I just leave please?" I half-begged, not really joking. "I can just come back later when you're gone."
He gave me the ghost of a smile in reply, "You don't have to be embarrassed. For what it's worth, I took it as a compliment."
Swearing a silent oath to get James back for what he'd done, I glanced down at the letter still clutched in Sirius's hand.
"Are you going to post that?" I asked, trying to distract him.
He looked down at it as if he had forgotten it was there.
"Probably not."
Too caught up in my own embarrassment to really see it before, it was only then that I noticed something different about him. It was as if his usual energy was gone.
"Are you okay?" I looked at him uncertainly.
"Yeah," he replied in a way that showed he definitely wasn't.
Walking over to the large ledge of an open windowsill at the side of the small round room, he sat down, tossing his own envelope down next to him.
He let out a heavy sigh, rubbing his face with his hands.
"Got a letter from my mother and father this morning," he said, leaning forward to rest his arms on his legs.
"What about?" I asked cautiously.
He looked over at me, his face shadowed and tired-looking.
"Oh, you know, the usual," he said casually. "All bile and spite and... oh yes, they've decided to blast me from the family tree. As if I never existed."
He gave a bleak laugh, "They always were big on dramatic gestures."
"This is because you moved out?"
He had already accidentally told me he'd left home to live with James's family when things got too unbearable with his Muggle hating family.
He straightened his back.
"Partly," he confirmed, raising his eyebrow at the fact I'd remembered. "And partly because I wouldn't join in with their wizard superiority parade anymore. Though it's been building up to this as far back to my sorting into Gryffindor."
He nodded to the letter sat next to him.
"I was going to write back to them. Came all the way up here to tell them exactly what I thought of them."
He lifted a shoulder.
"Turns out there's not much you can say when your own parents threaten to cast an unforgivable on you if you ever dare to come home again."
I stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to say.
"Suppose I'm officially homeless," he stated as if he was trying to keep his tone as stoic and matter-of-fact as possible, with just his eyes betraying the emotion he was trying to keep concealed.
"Part of me can't believe it's even gone this far. Perhaps I really should've just put up with them for a while longer like Remus said. At least long enough to get some money together to set myself up somewhere."
"What about the Potters?" I asked quietly.
He shook his head.
"It could be another couple of years before I can earn enough to get my own place. I can't expect them to keep me for that long. They've already done too much."
For a split second I had the ludicrous thought of inviting him to stay at my house. But somehow I couldn't imagine Sirius living with me and my Muggle mother. More to the point, I couldn't imagine he would want to even if he had the chance.
"A person can only take so much, you know?" he said, thankfully unaware of my thought process. "When they shipped Reg off to Death Eater camp...it was a step too far. They'd always been on at me with their pureblood obsession, their superiority mania, but to have them warp the innocent mind of my little brother?"
"Death Eater camp?"
"Not literally," he replied, looking momentarily amused at the horror on my face. "More like inadvertent training. Hanging around learning 'tips and tricks' from some of the vilest scum you could ever hope to meet."
He pushed himself up from the ledge and paced over to the centre of the room.
"He was such an innocent soul growing up. Seeing what they've done to him, filling him with their hatred like that-"
He broke off, apparently unable to carry on speaking.
I knew that if he'd had a choice, I was probably the last person he'd have wanted to see him like this.
It made me feel strangely guilty, like an intruder spying on his grief.
I felt something swell inside of me in response; needing to show him that the last thing I would do was judge him for any of it.
For the first time since he had called me back, I moved, walking further into the Owlery towards him with the assorted pick 'n mix of owls continuing their peaceful hoots around us, blissfully unaware of what was happening.
Coming to a stop directly in front of him I left an arm's length between us, carefully tucking the letter to my mother in my trouser pocket.
If he saw me move closer he didn't show it, keeping his head down like I was standing opposite a statue.
Reaching out for him tentatively, my hand made contact with the side of his arm.
It had been intended to comfort him in some way, to show him it was okay to be upset, but it was only when I noticed his body had stiffened at my touch that I realised how completely misguided I had been.
When he lifted his head up to look at me, I knew instantly he was going to push me away.
Wanting to beat him to it, I went to drop my arm back down, but before I could he caught it mid-fall.
He seemed to be studying me as he held it in place.
"You ought to be careful," he said in a low voice, "I might start to think you actually care."
From this close up, I could see him more clearly than before in the twilight of our surroundings. His expression was strange; quietly sombre, with a fleeting cloud of something else I couldn't fully read.
Before I could start to feel embarrassed about my futile effort to console him, he reached down for my other hand.
Only vaguely noticing how ice-cold my fingers were in comparison to his, I watched him guide my arms up and around the back of his neck, the long, dark hair that lay there brushing against my wrists and hands.
Looking up at his face, I searched his eyes, wordlessly asking for some kind of explanation, but his only response was to move his now free hands around my waist, pulling me closer.
When he leant his head down to bury his face in my hair, as if somehow finding comfort in it, it was almost like I could physically feel his grief, tangible in the way he held onto me. His warm breath exhaled against the side of my neck.
He needed some kind of solace, I had to remind myself. That was all this was. But it was hard keep convincing myself of that with the front of his body pressed against mine, leaving behind an undeniable stirring sensation trailing beneath my navel.
Clutching fistfuls of the soft woollen jumper that lay against his back, I tried to maintain my composure.
But it was no use; it was like he could sense the change in me.
With his arms urging me closer in response, my grip on him tightened.
After that it was almost as if someone had flicked a switch, and everything seemed to change in that instant.
His hands became more fervent and desperate, my feet almost lifting from the floor with the sheer force of it.
It was only when I felt his palm slide up underneath my top, grazing the bare skin of my back that my mind started to clear of the fog. Like someone had turned a fan on to blast it away.
The intense longing that had overtaken it was quickly replaced with another sensation.
It took me a shameful second to recognise it as guilt.
I had a boyfriend.
Whatever this had started as, I wasn't so naive that I couldn't see it had led to something else entirely.
Relaxing the vice-like grip I still had on his jumper, I pulled far enough away from his arms to create a definite gap in the areas our bodies had previously been touching, my feet flattening back to the floor.
Rubbing his back quickly, I avoided his questioning gaze as I took a step away, extricating myself from him as if I hadn't almost just completely lost control.
Sirius's arms fell to his sides, staring at me with dark, glazed eyes. Though he didn't say anything, his expression was enough to make me realise I had made a colossal mistake.
He no longer owed anyone anything – he had broken up with Marlene. I, on the other hand, had somehow become something I had always disliked.
"I should post my letter," I told him, trying to keep my voice light to conceal the thickness in it.
Turning away from him, I did my best to steady myself as I walked over to one of the school owls.
"Thanks," I murmured to its sleepy face as I attached my letter to its ankle tie as if nothing had happened.
Hooting once in response, the little owl swooped gracefully over to the window ledge, pausing to ready itself before heaving its small, weightless body upwards. I watched it fly away into the glow of the night sky, still feeling the effects of my adrenalin racing through my veins.
"It's funny, when James told me about your dream, it made me think about the first one."
His voice sounded guttural behind me, having not moved since I pulled away from him, and I turned around to face him again, trying to understand what he had chosen to say.
We'd never even approached the subject of the night-time fantasy James had implanted in both our heads, weeks ago now. It had been far too embarrassing for either of us to even acknowledge out loud to one another, but his expression told me he wasn't going to let it go any longer.
"Have you ever wondered if we were in the same one?"
I peered across at him while he waited for me to answer.
Was this some kind of way to get back at me for what had just happened?
Avoiding his eye contact, I jutted my jaw stubbornly, refusing to reply.
Of course the answer was yes. Many times. The fact it had been caused by magic meant that anything was possible, and I couldn't imagine James's charm bothering to invent two completely different dreams for the both of us, but I still couldn't see what that had to do with anything that was happening now.
"Say two people meet up somewhere," he said, keeping his voice steady and unreadable, "They touch, they react to one another. Then they wake up and find out none of it really happened. Except, it turns out they can both remember every last detail, almost as if they'd actually been together, in real-life."
He stopped to scrutise me. "Would any of what happened be any less real just because it was in a dream?"
I tried not to react, not daring to even consider what he was saying.
"What we did in that dream together," he pressed, "Would it count as our first time?"
His words seemed to reverberate around us.
"We had no control over it," I replied immediately.
"We had no control over the fact it happened," he agreed, "but we had complete control over the way it felt. Whatever it did to us; it didn't force any of it to feel as good as it did."
He studied my face, "Tell me it didn't," he dared me.
"Having you underneath me like that," he released a breath, "I could feel you there-"
"Stop."
I didn't want him to describe it, not when I felt sure he would share exactly the same details as I'd experienced.
He did as I asked, letting his sentence trail off into nothing.
"In your dream the other night, what happened in it?" he asked instead, his words burning with curiosity.
I couldn't bring myself to look into his face anymore, instead focusing on an area of the wall behind his shoulder. The imaginary figure of him closing the curtains around my bed was still vivid in my mind, but it wasn't a good memory. It was still tainted with humiliation thanks to James.
Moving towards me, he came to a stop so close that I was forced to look up at him or continue staring at an indiscriminate area of his chest.
Reaching a hand up, he swept the hair back from my neck.
"Did we kiss?" he asked.
When his gaze fell to my mouth, I quickly closed my parted lips.
"Perhaps I kissed you," he speculated, grazing his knuckles along my jaw line, letting them move down the small expanse of bare skin he had created.
I felt the goose-bumps erupt on my arms in response to his touch, unexpectedly measured and gentle in comparison with earlier.
He looked at me with an intensity that I could practically feel, even in the growing darkness of the room.
I knew he was doing his best to unlock the same reckless heat I'd shown him earlier.
Refusing to give into it, I shut my eyes, trying to block it out.
Letting the back of his hand slide downwards, he trailed it over my collar towards the centre of my chest and over my breastbone.
Grabbing his hand in mine, I held it still, clinging to the rapidly loosening threads of my self-control.
"You want me just as much as I want you," he said definitely, examining the way I had reacted to his touch. "Why are you stopping yourself?"
His words were almost an exact repetition of what he'd said in my dream.
I put his hand back at his side and released it.
"I have a boyfriend," I told him simply, holding his determined gaze.
"Then break up with him."
"Are you forgetting about Marlene?" I asked, knowing he had broken it off with her, but needing something, anything, to throw him off course. To divert him.
But Sirius didn't look at all diverted by it. In fact, he looked exactly the opposite.
"I know you were there in the library yesterday," he revealed instead, unveiling a card I'd no idea he had.
I thought back to my hidden seat amongst the huge rows of shelving, forced to sit there and listen while he told my friend he didn't want her anymore.
He'd known I was there all the time?
"I should never have let anything happen with her in the first place," he said, not leaving me a chance to demand why he had done it if he'd known I was there.
"Then why did you?" I asked. "Why did you start going out with her?"
It was a question I'd wanted him to ask him since I'd first heard they were together. He'd spun us all a line about 'opposites attracting', only to get with my temperamentally similar friend. It was like he was being purposefully manipulative.
"The person I wanted chose someone else," he replied. "I thought I could distract myself."
I pulled my mouth into a straight line. His explanation wasn't good enough. He'd got together with my obsessed friend to distract himself?
"Marlene really likes you, Sirius."
He flickered his eyes.
"She knew what she was getting into when she came onto me," he replied frankly. "When she took me around the side of the pub that day, asking me to 'give her a chance', offering to 'help me move on', well that's exactly what I did. I gave her everything she wanted from me."
He shrugged.
"It didn't work. You were the only thing I could think about. No matter what we were doing."
He studied me.
"You think I should have stayed with her out of pity?"
I felt my viewpoint shaken. "No," I stated defensively.
He nodded, as if reassured by my answer.
"She'd seen the way I was with you and she didn't care," he continued. "Since the first train ride this year, everything I've done has been to get your attention, negative or otherwise, and the only person who seems blind to it is you. You've managed to turn me into someone even I don't recognise."
His jaw clenched, the weak rays of moonlight coming in through the window, casting light over the angles of his face.
"I've never had to chase a girl the way I have you. If anyone else treated with the same apathy... But there's something about you," his eyes searched mine, trying to find some kind of explanation in them, "It won't let me move on."
His lips quirked in the suggestion of a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "And even after all of that, you were still indifferent enough to tell me you just wanted to be friends. To show me it was true by going off with someone else."
He lifted a shoulder. "At least that's what I thought. Until Prongs told me about your dream."
"It didn't mean anything," I replied quietly, unable to believe what he was saying. "It's not like I can choose what I dream about."
"Exactly. As much as you try to shut me out while you're awake, you can't hide how you feel from yourself. What happened between us just now - the way you're still trying to pretend it didn't - it proves it."
I wanted to disagree, but no words would come out.
"I couldn't work out why you were like it," he stated. "Giving me an inch, only to pull it away again when it started to become too real. Then I saw how you were with Mederos, letting your guard down, holding his hand, then again at the tournament..." he trailed off.
"I'd always blamed your own insecurities for the fact you kept me at arm's length, but seeing you with someone else made me realise Marlene was right. Even if I didn't want to admit it, you weren't the problem. The problem was you didn't – you don't- trust me."
He exhaled a sharp, humourless laugh. "The only reason I was even with her was to take my mind off you, and all the time it was just pushing you further away."
His smile faded.
"Ironic really, isn't it? All of the things Marlene and I did together, and then Prongs lets slip about one little dream and it manages to throw me off the deep end." He flicked his eyebrows, "Guess it turns out instant gratification isn't all it's cracked up to be."
I thought about all the times I'd seen him with Marlene, feeling like an insignificant child in comparison; unable compete with her experience. It threw me to hear him talk about it as though it wasn't even important.
With every other word, my opinion of him shifted, twisting some parts spectacularly on their head.
His eyes searched my face again, "I don't understand how I could've ever made you feel worthless enough to end up as the thing you fear the most," he said, "because you're exactly the opposite."
I tried to slow the steadily increasing thrum of my pulse; the only telltale sign that what he was saying was having an effect on me.
"That was why I needed you to see us in the library," he explained. "To show you that I've made my choice, and it's not her."
I fought hard against my failing defenses. Knowing that despite everything he said, none of it mattered in the end.
"Even if I wasn't with Jesse, I still wouldn't let anything happen between us," I told him truthfully, trying not to see the flash of hurt across his face before he had chance to reign it in.
Because as much as he could make me feel things that were completely undeniable, I just couldn't cope with his stolen kisses or hidden touches anymore. Or for him to warn me not to tell anyone else whenever we got too close, or to drop my hand only to put his arms around other girls.
"You treat me like I'm disposable," I said, feeling a strength behind my decision that grew even as I was making it. "An embarrassing little secret. All you've ever done is pick me up when you feel like it, then drop me again when people are around."
I looked desperately into his grey eyes.
"I don't want to be with someone who's ashamed to be with me."
Jesse was happy to be seen with me. To hold me even when other people were watching. It was how a real relationship should be, I knew that now.
Being Sirius's toy just wasn't enough, no matter how good it might feel in the moment.
"You don't understand," he replied, shaking his head. "I don't want you to be my dirty little secret."
He looked down at me earnestly, "I want you to be with me. Properly. Officially. Whatever you want. I don't care."