PART TWO

- Prologue -

Fresh air was essential; otherwise, I'd have certainly gone mad. I hadn't yet, which was good news all in itself, especially with the fact that I was going to be leaving tomorrow morning.

The routine: hold your breath. Smile. Laugh when appropriate. Escape whenever possible.

It wasn't my parents that were unbearable, but rather their company. Every other day they'd rotated between guests, introducing me to work friends and acquaintances, still trying to find their "niche" in the community. Really, good for my parents, but did I really have to be included in all of it?

"Grace! There you are! We missed you inside," a voice bellowed out from the door to the patio, and before I could do anything else, Steve was beside me. "You know, leaving out the cheese and crackers for the rest of us is endangering to our health. Do you know how high my blood pressure is?"

No, but I reckoned mine was getting fairly close to his.

Steve was drunk. And from what I knew of Steve, he was always drunk. I didn't really care. I just didn't want to talk about my career aspirations with my parents' friends anymore. Because what could I tell them, honestly? Well, I'm planning on furthering my magical education so I can fight this evil bloke named Lord Voldemort. You wouldn't have heard of him, but he's a pretty infamous sorcerer from where I live. Yeah. Great future ahead of me. Oh, and also, I just graduated from a boarding school in Scotland where staircases move and portraits talk and hats sing and people fly on broomsticks!

Normally when your family's company asks you questions that your family knows makes you uncomfortable, they try to step in and save your arse. But not my parents. I just squirmed and writhed in my seat while my mum asked if anyone wanted more tea.

So, apparently, I had attended a boarding school in Dufftown and I was now planning on studying engineering. I don't know why I'd said that, but it'd been the first thing I could think of. It was a mistake. Steve had studied engineering at uni, too, and he'd decided in his drunken stupor that we were the best of friends and hadn't stopped talking to me since.

He was talking again, but I'd missed half of what he'd said. That was okay, because he really didn't seem to be waiting for a response, anyways.

The patio door slid open behind me but I didn't turn to see who it might have been. It was probably Mum again, coming out to complain about me behaving like an angry, introverted child. She couldn't yell at me if Steve was here, though, so maybe she'd go back inside. I just stared out at the trees that bordered the backyard, my gaze dimming with lack of focus. Everything was so green here. It felt similar to home, in a way, but my parents' house here was so much nicer. Of course, it wasn't really my home.

I stirred slightly when a voice sounded beside me, distinctly not Steve's nor my mother's. Diane, Steve's lovely, high-browed twig of a wife. "Steve, honey, I was just thinking we could get back home. Before it gets dark. You know I can't drive worth hell at night."

I think Steve had just been on a spiel about outsourcing work to giraffes, though he might have said Indians. Well, I could hardly be blamed. He had a slur that was difficult to decipher between the alcohol and his normal inflection.

Diane said some more things to Steve, who only shrugged with half of an effort. Then she turned on me, smiling tightly. "Grace, it was a pleasure to meet you, sweetie. I hope all goes well for you at school this year. England is so far, though! Oh, I'd hate to send my children so far away."

I suppressed a grimace and returned a smile of my own. "It was nice to meet you, too." Maybe not the most subtle subject change ever.

"Have I told you that you've got the cutest little accent ever?"

She had. I hadn't returned the compliment. I mean, it wasn't a terrible accent. But when she'd very enthusiastically pointed out that she was from England, too, New England, I couldn't help but think that her New England accent sounded nothing like an English accent.

I'd been nice, though. I said 'thank you' and smiled like a light bulb.

After a few more minutes of senseless chatter, we'd trekked in from the patio and I said my goodbyes to Diane and good ol' Steve. Steve wanted me to come back next summer so he could catch up on how my engineering classes had gone, and so I allowed myself to promise I would. Their goodbyes seemed to last longer than dinner itself had, but finally they'd gone, in a little, stylish black Mercedes, and zipped down the road and out of sight.

When they were gone, I braced myself for a lecture from Mum. I went straight to the dishes, not making eye contact, and scrubbed and rinsed on repeat, replaying the inevitable situation in my head. You could have tried a little harder not to look like a tortured child! or, You're eighteen years old, you'd think you could look a little less moody? or, All we do is brag on you, and then you show up the exact opposite of everyone's expectations! And on, and on, and on…

When I'd finished the dishes, though, neither Mum or Dad had come into the kitchen to scold me. I tiptoed curiously into the living room where they had resigned themselves after dinner, and found Dad lounging on the sofa, staring at the television in daze, Mum in an armchair, eyes intent on the paper. Well, things had just gotten even more curious.

I went and sat near my mother cautiously, waiting silently for the rampage to begin. Neither had seemed to move at my presence, however, and it was a while before either moved at all. Mum, though, huffed quite visibly and pushed the paper away, saying, "Oh, could it get any worse?"

The slightly rumpled paper lay vulnerable on the table, a moving image on the front instantly catching my eye. My heart pulled in my chest. God, that world felt so far away lately.

"You still get the Daily Prophet?" I asked without really meaning to, reaching out and taking the newspaper in my hands.

"Yes, your father's always insisted… In case either of our families were ever in it, by chance…" She shook her head fervently. "I think we'll end the subscription. It's getting more awful every day. I don't want to see it. And it's so much more expensive to have it sent here."

"Do you get it by owl?" I didn't want to think about Sirius, but I would have certainly felt dumb if I could have been writing him all this time and I hadn't been.

"No, Floo."

"Oh," I said, feeling slightly defeated. Well, maybe I could have kept some sort of contact with him, but I'd see him soon enough, anyhow. My eyes trailed to the paper in my hands, where the title read in big, black letters,

MUGGLE CITY IN RUINS, TWENTY-THREE DEAD, DEATH EATER ACTIVITY SUSPECTED

I suddenly felt a violent wave of nausea overwhelm me. For a moment, I tried to speak and found my mouth was too dry to form comprehensible words. I pushed the paper back onto the table and hugged myself around the waist.

"You're going back there, aren't you?" Mum said quietly.

It was enough to drag me from the daze. "I am."

Her face broke, a torn, conflicted expression, where she seemed to be unable to decide between breathing and blinking. And then after a long silence that could have possibly stretched on forever, she met my eyes with a hard gaze of her own and said, "Just come back."

Jet-lag surely must have caused numerous deaths. I had a terrible feeling it was going to cause mine.

Lily's excited shrieks rang in my ears as she hugged me tightly and hopped up and down on her toes. "Oh, I've missed you so much, Gracie! How've you been? You look thin. Oh, it's only been three weeks, but it feels like it's been a year! Oh, Merlin, you can't ever go back there again! No, I'm only joking, of course you have to go back. How was it? I heard that America's hot."

I rolled my eyes, unable to repress a grin. "Take a breath, will you?"

We sat at a small table outside the café and ordered two lattes. I honestly preferred tea, but Lily had insisted, and who was I to argue with her?

"Sorry. But, really, is it hot there?"

"Not at all," I said with a shrug. "My parents live in the northeast. I think the south's hot."

"Where do they live?"

"New Hampshire."

"Oh," she said, blinking. "Haven't the foggiest."

"Well, it's pretty there. You should come with me next time."

"Oh, I wish. Sounds so much better than what I was doing all this time." She locked her jaw thoughtfully.

"Petunia didn't get married already, did she?"

"No. She might as well have, though. It's next month." She looked like she was trying to be angry, but she looked more forlorn than anything else. "I wouldn't be surprised if she just retracted my invitation."

I frowned. "I'm sorry, Lily. I'm sure the wedding will be all right."

"I hope so." She rubbed her forehead. "I went to see James's parents last week. His dad's ill. They think it's an early strain of dragon pox."

I felt my eyes widen. "That's curable, isn't it?"

"Well, there's a cure. But it's not entirely reliable, and you know Mr. Potter… he's not the youngest."

"That's terrible," I said quietly, and for a moment, I tried imagining one of my own parents deathly ill… Maybe I didn't like them all the time, but I'd never imagined them just not being there. It left me feeling oddly hollow. "How are your parents?"

"Dad's the usual," she said with a small, wispy sigh. "His memory's getting worse. Mum's been doing well. She's all over the place with Petunia's wedding, though. I don't want her overworked."

"I'd offer to help, but Petunia might start crying," I said reproachfully.

Lily let out a laugh in spite of herself. "Too true. We don't need that." She shook her head, then cried, "Oh, our lattes!" as the lady brought us the two cups. "Thanks so much! What speedy service!"

The woman, a broad, dark, curly-haired plump of a thing, smiled a bit awkwardly before walking away again.

Somehow, in this weird, foreign place, Lily and I found something normal in our friendship to latch onto.

Gracie,

I think you're supposed to be back by now, but what do I know… You're lucky I even remember your birthday, love! Dates are awful, cruel things. So, anyways, I hope you get this letter, because, as I said, you know how I am…

How was America? I think it's been four weeks since we graduated. But it's probably been three. I dunno, I've been spending too much time with James in pubs. It's been a lonely existence while you've been gone. Oh, I mean, well, we got smashed a few times, but I promise I didn't do anything that you'd hex my eyes out for. We had a designated Apparator, too, so no splinching. Or apparating onto tables and breaking vases. (Remus is good at apparating. He shoulder consider it as a profession, I think.)

For some reason, I was just sitting here and remembering that letter you wrote me at the beginning of seventh year. When you apologized for nearly burning all of my hair off. And also burning my biscuits. More importantly my biscuits. And I kept thinking how you signed it with, 'Love, Gracie.' It's funny how I never really knew. I mean, I guess I did always kind of know, but I didn't. That was a bad explanation of it. I promise my feelings are actually much more complex than that. But a good kind of complex. There's a good kind of complex, isn't there?

Anyways, I guess my point is that I miss you. Simple as that. Write back, if you get this, that is… And if you don't, well… write back anyways!

Love you,

Sirius

I dropped the letter onto my stomach and rolled over in my bed. I'd gone to the flat my parents had bought for me (temporarily) just today. So far, the flat was dead empty, nothing moved in, aside from the small bed I was curled up on currently. The walls were starch white and the carpet was a dusty tan. Everything was blank, so unfilled and lifeless. I didn't like it so far.

But it was my flat. So, that was good. Yeah.

My bags were scattered randomly around the floor and I found myself rummaging through them for some spare parchment, and my favorite quill, the one Peter had gotten me for Christmas…

Sirius,

For the record, it's almost been four weeks. But technically I think it's been three. Either way, that's far too long. I got back in this morning, actually. I took a plane…the flight was unbelievably dreary. You've never been on a plane, so you wouldn't know. You're definitely going on a plane. You'll see.

In my defense, I didn't come see you because Lily dragged me out right after I'd gotten home, and I'm exhausted, and also, I don't know where you live. I mean, I guess I could kind of ask this owl, but, no, stop it, Sirius, I know I'm not making any sense, stop laughing at me!

America was fine. Good weather, but who cares about weather? I spent a lot of time with old people, but it was tolerable, sometimes. I told my parents about the Order. They almost had a meltdown, but I basically told them that I'm an adult and they can't tell me what to do. They (kind of) let it go.

I've got an interview with the Daily Prophet tomorrow. Cross your fingers, yeah?

Come visit me soon. Please. I miss you.

Love,

Gracie

A/N: You guys are the best. Good luck to everyone who's starting school this Monday. (Lucky you.) In the meantime, more GracieSirius soon. x