Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I only own my OC's ;)
A/N: Okay, so this is like one of those TikTok soulmate trends, if you've seen them. Well, here we are, and one thing that I neglected to say about this is that when you lay your eyes on your soulmate, you kind of just know it's them if you know what I mean, you get a feeling inside… you'll see what I mean, I don't want to go all poetic trying to explain it :)
Warnings: Swearing, mentions of mature themes, uh, blasphemy *looks sheepish* sorry…
Word count: 3,176
The Other Half of a Murderer
— Chapter One —
30th Birthday
August 1, 1993, 08:17 am
Early morning sunlight streamed in from a badly curtained window, illuminating the worn face of one Naomi Yalden. She laid lightly upon the duvet, still clad in a short black dress, dark brown hair tangled and partially covering her face, still made up with smudged red lipstick and what used to be an elegant eye look.
Naomi's hand, decorated with red polished nails and littered with several small tattoos, hung limp over the side of the mattress and must have previously been clutching onto the beer bottle which was now on the cream carpet and surrounded by a large stain of its contents. One simple black, five inch heel sat to the right of it, while the other was strewn halfway across the room.
The walls of the room were painted a Carolina blue and the previous owner had obviously tried some sort of rag rolling to get a mottled, rustic effect. This was, however, well covered up with posters of different bands and artists, displaying Naomi's eclectic taste in music, ranging from a large A3 poster of the Sex Pistols to a smaller A4 poster of Madonna. A bookshelf stood perpendicular to the door and window and was piled with books, VHS' and many other assorted items. A purple beanbag sat in the opposite corner, so cluttered with items not even a cat could sit in it.
All was quiet save for movement down the hall and the occasional rustle of bed sheets as Naomi shifted. Slowly, the soft sound of sizzling filled the room and Naomi woke with a hiss, frowning as a hand lifted to clutch at her chest; her frown deepened as another hand moved to clutch at her head.
As if on cue, another woman burst into the still room making Naomi groan and grope drowsily at air as if to cover herself with her duvet which, sadly for her, was still underneath her body.
The woman in question was a kindly looking black woman who seemed to be around Naomi's age. Her black hair was a short bob that bounced happily with each step. She was dressed in a worn grey ACDC shirt and biker shorts.
"Rise and shine—! Oh dear, you look awful." The woman said, stopping in her tracks as her eyes found the girl on the bed.
"Thanks Claire," Naomi responded sarcastically, struggling to sit herself up.
"Happy Birthday anyway! No birthday cake sadly, but I do have a lovely cup of water and some Aspirin for that headache you're sure to have. I don't know how many shots of tequila you swallowed last night but I don't think you managed to throw it all up on the pavement somehow." the woman – Claire – carried on, setting both things down on the bedside table.
Naomi's hand moved from her head to her mouth, "Let's not talk about tequila this early in the morning shall we?" she said, reaching for the aspirin and water.
Claire wasn't listening though; she was too busy trying to get a look at where Naomi's hand still lay on her chest. "Let us have a look then, I want to see the initials."
Naomi looked at her confused before looking at her hand too and starting. "Give a woman some privacy Claire, I want to know his initials first!" she said, turning away from Claire's line of sight.
"It might not be a he," Claire smirked.
"After thirty long years of being on this planet, I think I've worked my sexuality out, why on earth would they be anything other than male?" Naomi muttered, trying to peer at the letters on her chest. "Why do these bloody things have to be written in cursive?!"
"Have you seen Russian cursive?" Claire asked randomly.
"No, do I want to know?"
Claire took a sip of the water left in the cup on the bedside table. "It's just a load of elegant squiggly lines."
"So your handwriting then?" Naomi smirked over her shoulder.
"My handwriting's still better than yours Mrs. Ludwig Van Beethoven."
"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about but I'll take it as a compliment." Naomi said, looking down one last time and seemingly drawing a conclusion. "I'm pretty sure that it says S.B." she stated, turning around.
Claire leaned in to have a closer look, "Yeah, that's definitely an S.B… Susan Brown."
"Honestly Claire, I am not a lesbian—"
"You might be bisexual, why limit yourself to only half the population?"
"Nor am I bisexual."
"You might be—"
"No, Claire. I am straight."
"Okay," Claire said finally, raising her hands in the air in mock surrender.
There was a small pause in which Claire took another sip of water while Naomi stared into space, contemplating names. It was Claire who broke it, "Right!" she said, setting the glass down and walking towards the door, "You, birthday girl, need to have a shower. You look like a panda… a panda who's just had it on by the looks of it." Claire added, looking highly amused while gazing down at Naomi's smudged makeup.
Naomi, in response, rubbed at her face and groaned again.
"Come on, come on!" Claire called enthusiastically, walking from the room, "I might have some pancakes ready when you're finished." she sing-songed, peering around the doorframe before disappearing off again.
Once showered, Naomi sat at the table in the kitchen, face clean, hair wrapped up in a towel turban and a fluffy white dressing gown tied at the waist. "Honestly, all this excitement about initials, I forgot I had too much to drink last night." she muttered, rubbing at her forehead.
"You'll be alright in a minute, the pancakes are almost ready, I've just got to flip them over." Claire called over her shoulder from the stove.
Naomi got up and headed towards the kettle, "Just be careful please, I don't fancy getting out 'the Pancake Broom' today."
"Still can't believe that you named that broom specifically for getting pancakes of the ceiling and then went out and bought another broom to use for actual sweeping." Claire muttered.
"I still can't believe how many you've managed to get stuck to the ceiling, everyone thinks we have a leak problem." Naomi countered, craning her neck to look up at the brown splodges that remained on the ceiling tiles.
"Well let's pray it doesn't happen this time." Claire said, readying the pan and shaking it slightly to make sure the pancake wasn't stuck to the bottom.
Two things happened at once: one, there was a loud knock on the door and two, the kettle went off, not very quietly. Claire jumped violently, jolting the pan and perfectly flipping the pancake.
Naomi laughed, "Well, now we know how to perfectly flip a pancake. I'll go answer that." She headed over to the door, standing on tiptoes to peer out the peephole. Micah Passero, Claire's Italian soulmate, fiancé etcetera, stood at the door bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Oh it's your lover boy." Naomi called to Claire, opening the door.
"Oh, hello Naomi! Happy Birthday! Erm – is Claire here?" he asked, his Italian accent emphasising the vowels of his words as he tried to look around the door for Claire. The two had been engaged for five months after meeting at a bar not a year ago. It had been a shock for Naomi to see Claire off with one man for a date and then for her to come back with her soulmate.
"Hello and thank you Mario, and yes, she's just in here." Naomi said, opening the door wider and stepping back to let him through.
"I've told you not to call him that." Claire said, coming up behind Naomi and giving a smiling Micah a hug and kiss.
Naomi snorted, turning away at the blatant display of affection. "I'll call him Luigi then."
Claire lifted a leg behind her and playfully kicked the back of Naomi's knees, making her legs bend and her body wobble to keep her balance.
"I'll give Micah your cup of tea for that stunt." Naomi bantered, heading back to the kitchen to turn the stove off and pour the water into the two mugs while the other two sat down. "How do you take your tea Micah?"
"Uh, milk four sugars, thanks Nai," Micah said, no longer kissing Claire, but keeping a hand around her waist.
"Four?!" Naomi said, looking over the door of the compact fridge from where she was getting the milk from. Micah nodded. "I'll just pour the whole tub of sugar in while I'm at it shall I?" she muttered.
"Naomi," Claire complained, "why are you being so snarky today?"
"Headache," Naomi grumbled, "sorry, I hate to be rude. These just never put anyone in the best of moods."
Claire huffed, "Come sit down then, come on." she urged, standing from where she was sat next to Micah and gesturing for Naomi to sit.
Naomi gave a grateful smile and trudged to plonk herself down in the seat, "A good birthday then?" Micah questioned cheekily.
"Brilliant,"
"You've got the initials haven't you? What are they I forgot to ask you?" Micah asked, resting his head on his hand.
"S.B. Claire keeps trying to tell me I'm a lesbian." Naomi said.
"There are plenty of males with names beginning with 'S'… Sean, Stephen, Sam, Simon, Sebastian—"
"Eurghh, if I have to marry a man named Sebastian I'm going to throw myself off a cliff!" Naomi cried, reeling back in disgust.
Claire laughed loudly, passing both Micah and Naomi their cups of tea, "Could you imagine have to scream that in bed?"
"Pet names would be in order," Naomi grumbled making the other two chuckle.
There was a lull in the conversation as Micah sipped slowly on his hot tea, Naomi blew cold air on hers and Claire juggled between serving up pancakes and making her own cup of tea.
"Why is it that we find out our soulmate's initials at the age of thirty? I mean, half of our life has already gone! I could be classified as a spinster for crying out loud! Still reasonably good-looking… can go to a club with a risk of being called a grandma." Naomi said, muttering the last part quietly to herself; not quiet enough it seemed.
"I'd hoped you'd forgotten about that," Claire said, placing down her cup of tea followed by a large plate of pancakes to share and some cutlery.
"Thank you," Naomi said absentmindedly, "Immature little boys outside nightclubs… think that just because they haven't started puberty that they own the world… Ren and Stimpy looking child…" she mumbled.
"But do you remember the cute guy that came to your aid?" Claire smirked, picking up a knife and fork and taking a bite of the pancakes.
"Erm… no?" Naomi said hesitantly, mouth full of pancake and maple syrup.
"Of course you don't," Claire muttered.
"Cute guy… should I be worried?" Micah piped up, smirking into the pancake he was about to take a bite of.
"Well we'd both be fucked if that was the case, considering that we're soulmate's." Claire responded with an identical smirk. "But yeah, Nai, this cute guy, it wasn't exactly something out of an action movie, but he comes, tells the kid to leave you alone, and guides you – us – into the club and to the bar, hand on your lower back and all… do you reckon he was your soulmate?!"
Naomi shook her head, "No, if he was my soulmate then he would have stayed and been here now wouldn't he?"
"True," Claire said, "well, as long as you don't end up with a murderer or cannibal for a husband you should be doing alright." she commented idly.
Naomi and Micah laughed, "At least I'm safe from Jeffrey Dahmer, he's into boys. Hannibal Lecter on the other hand…"
Micah sniffed the air, "You use Evyan skin cream…"
Claire sniffed the air, "And sometimes, you wear L'Air du temps…"
"But not today," Naomi finished off, laughing with the other two.
"We should watch that again," Claire said after a while.
"No thanks, I would prefer to sleep tonight." Naomi bantered, "However, I do think that it would be a good idea to put the news on, I would like to see what the weather's going to do today."
Naomi bent backwards over the chair, clutching aimlessly over the couch for the remote control. Finally, her hand hit something hard; she grabbed it and straightened up. Pressing the 'on' button, she asked rhetorically, "It's on one-one-four isn't it? Channel 4?"
Once the TV was on, she pressed the buttons in question, "Ahh, just in time for the weather."
"It's probably going to rain, it's Britain we're talking about." Claire murmured.
"…chillier than yesterday, but still a fairly warm temperature of twenty-seven degrees…"
"Fairly warm? We're gonna boil." Naomi grumbled.
"…blustery winds and small downpours in northerly areas, as you can see, Durham and Newcastle are mostly affected…"
"Told you,"
"…as the wind moves easterly, so does then rain, heading off into the North Sea there…"
"So we're going to boil, but there will be a bit of wind to ease it? Gotcha," Naomi said as another news report started up.
"We've had word that twenty-four hours ago one of Britain's most dangerous murderers has escaped prison." A picture of the convict materialized on the screen next to the news reporter and Naomi felt it. A feeling of need, want, belonging, and sanctuary filled her heart as she looked at the bedraggled man on the screen whose gaunt, waxy features were surrounded by an elbow-length matted tangle. "…Sirius Black was serving a life sentence after shooting over twelve people dead in the space of less than five minutes…"
Claire and Micah were shouting at the screen, questioning how on earth he did it, from which prison did he escape, and what on earth he did in prison to look like that. Naomi was only half listening, she felt the blood drain from her face, white noise surround her and hard, cold dread fill the rest of her body. Sirius Black. S.B. it all added up, Claire had mentioned the feeling, the feeling of belonging and want and need and sanctuary. And Naomi had felt it.
Oh God. They had joked, they had joked about this and it had become real. Her soulmate was a murderer, a mass murderer. Naomi suddenly became aware of two bodies in front of her and she snapped back into focus, coming face-to-face with a concerned looking Claire and Micah.
"Nai? Nai! Are you okay? You were completely dead to the world!" Claire called, exasperation seeping into her tone, "you're looking a little pale too, are you not feeling well?"
Looking into Claire's face, Naomi suddenly felt the urge to cry, "Oh God Claire, I felt it. I felt the feeling as I looked at that picture I felt it! Sirius Black! S.B! Oh shit you were right! My soulmate's a murderer. I'll either end up dead or alone. Oh God, oh God, oh God…"
Claire pulled the other girl roughly into a hug, rocking her back and forth and murmuring sweet nothings into her ear as tears streamed down Naomi's face and she continued to whisper "Oh God" between sobs. Micah stood to the side, not quite sure on what he should do; he decided to let his fiancée do the work for now.
It took a while, but finally Naomi calmed down enough for Claire to let go and talk to her. "Nai, darls, we'll sort this out. I promise, we – Micah and I – won't let him hurt you. He will never get you, he has to get through us first." Claire said fiercely holding Naomi's tear-streaked face in her hands.
"Uh, Claire?" Micah piped up uncertainly, "Is this a bad time to say that he's armed?"
"Yes this is a bad time Micah!" Claire hissed, turning her face away from Naomi's and in his direction.
"No," Naomi breathed, "No I will not let you two get into harm's way for me. No way, not happening."
"Nai—" Claire sighed.
"No," Naomi emphasised, "I'd rather have all six bullets of a Smith & Wesson revolver in my body than any in yours!"
"You think we'd rather bury you?" Claire asked, face contorting at the thought.
"No – I – that's not what I meant and you know it." Naomi sighed, wiping her face dry on the sleeve of her robe.
"Well, we've still got to figure out what we're going to do about this." Claire said, successfully changing the topic.
"Set up an online connecting site made specifically for people whose soulmate's are fucked up psychopaths?" Micah suggested.
"Oh yes, I can see it now," Claire deadpanned, "Psychopath Soulmate Site: Sign up and connect with new people today!"
Naomi gave a wet chuckle at their banter earning two soft smiles. "Perhaps we should give it a rest for today at least, I don't want to think about it at the moment."
"Okay," Claire agreed, "what do you want to do instead then?"
Naomi shrugged.
Claire thought for a while before Micah piped up behind her, "How about a karaoke?"
A grin formed across Claire's face, "Brilliant, which band? You choose." She said to Naomi.
"Erm…" Naomi pondered for a moment, "The Beatles?"
"Ugh, classic Brits," Micah grumbled good-naturedly.
Claire swatted her hand towards him; completely missing. "Which album?"
"Magical Mystery Tour has always been my favourite." Naomi said with a smile.
The two women shared that smile for a second before Claire stood to head over to the record collection.
"These are in alphabetical order right?" she called.
"Yeah,"
"C… G… J… K… L…" Claire muttered to herself, sliding a finger across the covers, "Aha! M! M, a… Found it!" she called, pulling it from the shelf.
She took it over to the old Wood Vinyl record player, carefully extracting it from the sleeve and gently placing it down on the turntable. She pressed a button, letting the player sort itself out before the first song started playing.
Naomi took the towel off from her head, slinging it over the sofa before running to grab three hairbrushes. This would certainly take her mind off things.
23:48 pm
The three had danced and sang the day away, forgetting all but the lyrics to The Beatles, Whitney Houston, Sex Pistols etcetera. However, now she lay back in bed, Naomi's mind wandered, and there was no need to guess where it wandered to.
Sirius Black. She thought about the picture, thought how he didn't look completely insane, in fact Naomi secretly thought that if he were to put a bit of weight on and give his hair a cut, he'd be quite handsome. These thoughts were followed by a burning hope for him to be innocent, to somehow be innocent of all the crimes he committed. She sighed, she shouldn't get her hopes up; she was the other half of a murderer.
And that is the first chapter finished, with a very cliché ending and just in time for Sirius Black's birthday! Happy Birthday Sirius! Anyway, like normal, sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes, I don't think there should be any spelling, but there will definitely be some grammar.
I very nearly wrote 'Mike Wazowski looking child', but then I realised that he hadn't been invented until… eight years after this was set, so that was a little impossible, anyway what I'm trying to say is that Ren and Stimpy was the best I could find, I hope it's alright :)
Stay safe,
bowwow :)