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chapter thirty-three.
The owl was pecking at Emilia's window by dawn, nipping at the glass incessantly and growing increasingly frustrated when met with no entry to the house.
At first, she had woken unsure of what could be the source of the noise was as she was still trapped in the daze of sleep, twisting in her bed but finding the edge far too soon and the realisation of her surroundings crept into her mind; this wasn't her bed at Hogwarts, this wasn't the dorms, the silence lacking the soft snores of the other girls was far too loud and then a screech, causing her to bolt upwards with her heart in her mouth and a blotted shadow broke the light seeping in through her window where Sirius' owl was close to smashing its head through the panes of glass.
It must not even be dawn with how filtered the sun was through the sky, situated at the edge of the horizon and Leslie the owl was glowering at her, nails scratching at her window to demand entry from the cold. She stared, blinking at the bird before she noticed brown parchment clutched firmly in its beak, murmuring hoots that were on the edge of becoming reprimanding should she dawdle for any longer.
Emilia clambered on her mattress, shivering at the brisk air that attacked her through her clothes as she pushed the window open, finding no reprieve from the world outside as a gust bled in through the crack and Leslie was quick to follow, a string of squawks leaving the bird as it all but tossed the letter down at the end of the bed, perched on the sheets and ruffling its fingers. If a bird could, it might have started chattering its teeth from the cold air.
"Sorry, Leslie. I didn't know you were out there for so long," Emilia apologised, wanting to stay on the good side of the bird lest it might decide to take revenge in the form of using her room as a bathroom. The bird paid her no heed and she was quick to snap the window shut again, ignoring the teeth of winter sinking into her exposed skin before she snatched the letter up into her hand, gauging the weight of it.
How had Sirius already written a letter at so early a time? And how was it he had managed to write even more ? She entertained the idea that perhaps he had penned it at some point in the night and sent it off with the owl, having no care that the animal's feathers might freeze together if only for the hope that it would reach her without having to wait for a response for long.
Greedily, Emilia tore open the letter's casing, pulling out the pages that were not as neatly folded as its predecessor's had. The writing was slanted, letters filed over one another and maybe he had been right about what James had said in his previous letter regarding him not having the best writing. Not that Emilia cared; it was as though he wrote with such franticness, the nub of the quill might have torn through the paper entirely.
The letter did not begin with a simple scratch of her name, or a nomenclature. It only and simply read the word: Love.
Like there was nothing else to call her by, as though that was all that she embodied. It was as if, to Sirius, Emilia and love were synonymous with one another and one could not exist without the other, intrinsically tied together.
She ate up every word, finger tracing under the endless lines that were as disconnected from one another as his thoughts; Euphemia was roping him and James into cleaning the entire house, Fleamont wanted to tie James down to smooth out his hair for once at his wife's behest, her letter was far too short, he was making plans with Remus and Peter to meet up the following week, his cigarettes had been banned at the Potter household, why was her letter so short, he nearly killed Leslie for eating her uncle's books, did she not miss him yet because her letter was awfully short.
Over and over again, taking on a chastising tone because she had to write more to him than how she had done originally because it wasn't enough and how am I going to survive without you? I don't care whatever it is, I want you to write to me about everything. I miss you. She couldn't imagine Sirius ever speaking such words to life in front of her, the writing so different to what she knew and Emilia wondered if people could change so much depending how they spoke and how they wrote. Writing was always easier than talking, it gave her time to think and to formulate a response without being construed as strange or odd as it had happened countless times before, but it seemed to be the opposite for Sirius; he had so much to say and needed to write it all in that moment in time otherwise it would kill him.
Leslie was nestled at the foot of her bed, eyes closed and in desperate need of a sleep; for a nocturnal animal, she was sure the poor bird was completely exhausted from being worked to the bone - or, to the feather. There would be no rest for the wicked, not for the next two weeks.
She wrote her response over the morning, fatigue settling in as the moments trickled by from being woken so early and by the time Leslie was sent off once more, Emilia was sure that she could sleep for the entire day. It would not be the case unfortunately; Mrs. Halabi was at her door by mid-day, bidding her to come over and Emilia had to postpone the offer when Leslie returned, looking more and more irritated as a bird could be that he was forced to return to her residence once more. Not wanting to be left without a connection to send her response back, Emilia had to hastily scribble a letter to return to Sirius, trying to pad the paper with as much as she could so that he would not be grated by her brevity.
It simply was not enough. Ink on paper, the indents of the quill, the smudge of where his hand had rushed over the letters before they dried, none of it was enough. She tried chasing the warmth that might have once been embedded there but it was long since dead. It was words on paper and nothing could ever surmount the agony building up within her; it was burrowing deep in her stomach, splitting her mind in two and Mrs. Halabi had to click her fingers in front of her more than once in order to drag her back to reality. Her chest was becoming precariously tighter and tighter with each day, fit to cave in on itself because she could scarcely breathe without the weight of her heart crushing her in his absence.
Even when Sirius was not there, he tormented her; pin pricks pierced through her insides as she found herself thinking about him through everything that she did and all that she saw.
Cleaning the dishes with Mrs. Halabi and remembering how he used to gripe about being forced to scrub cauldrons more times he was able to count; laying in bed at night, reading through The Hobbit before reaching her self-imposed ending and how he had questioned her about it all back in September, under the tree and his hands around her wrists when she tried blocking her ears in fear that he might spoil it for her. The dogs piling into her lap and remembering the train ride back to King's Cross, how it had once been Sirius' that lay her, breath hot against her stomach and fingers latched firmly to her waist. Grabbing the teapot from the stove without thinking and scorching her skin, remembering how it felt when he had pressed her palm to his chest and how it had wandered of its own accord and the burning metal did not blister her hand as much as that had.
It was endless, abound and it became a reckoning inside of her; now that she was bereft of Sirius, of his touch, it was like her mind was trying to make up for the emptiness. Trying to recall the feeling of his hand in her own as she flexed her fingers, grasping for the ghost of it that would not return to her. The sensation of his body burning against hers and now she was without a hearth, chasing the phantom that would return only in dreams. The letters began to pile up and so did the burden in Emilia's chest as she tried not to drown under the endless stream of it all.
Why had she never allowed herself the true enjoyment of it all when it was abundant? There was always something pulling her back, preventing her to fall completely into the overwhelming feeling wracking her and now Emilia couldn't even temper the images in her mind that haunted her; she wished Sirius was there with her, she wished he would make another one of his jokes she laughed at even when she didn't understand.
She wished she could feel him pressed against her, no care for such concepts such as personal space. She wanted him there, wanted him with her, because the hurt in her chest cleaved through her more deeply when he wasn't at her side.
Only two weeks, Emilia had tried telling herself over and over again. There was no need to be so dramatic. That's what she was being - dramatic. Unused to having friends and then being away from them and therefore, not sure how to deal with the forced absence between them both. Yet when Lily wrote to her, she unknowingly found herself not responding with haste, that burning need to hear back soon not making itself known.
She missed him. Missed the wicked curve of his smile, the gleam in his grey eyes, the sound of his laughter, the scent of his musky cologne, the feel of his skin over hers. That was perhaps what she missed most of all, the tangible evidence of his existence against her own and how it made her heart lurch in her chest. Even when she used to beg for a reprieve from the burn his touch brought, now it was all that she wanted. Always unable to make her mind up, indecisive as she was stubborn.
Emilia did not want to wander down a path that beckoned to her; late at night, when in bed, she tried to think of anything else but Sirius.
Yet, she always ended up in the same destination - thinking about him, how it might be like to have him sleeping beside her as he had been that day when she had intruded in on his rest in the infirmary back in October. Was he a peaceful sleeper? He must be. Completely opposite to her. Was his hair a mess in the morning or was he always that perfect? It wouldn't have mattered, she would have offered to smooth out the tangles either way if that was the case. He would have been impossible to share a bed with since he burned like a furnace, and she doubted he was someone who was conscious of the limited space a bed offered. Emilia knew enough of how it felt to be wrapped around him to capture the sensation in her mind, able to feel every part of him pressed to her.
Every part of him. She only knew the feel of his hands, his arms, head resting on her legs, breath down her back. But that was not all that existed of him; he had pressed her palm to him, and she had felt the echo of his heart beat, the flesh beneath the thin cotton shirt of his. How it wandered and how it yearned to explore in a manner that made Emilia's cheeks burn even when she was alone at night. Hidden tattoos into unseen skin that were not for her to ever set her gaze upon and Sirius staring at her, watching her, asking I could show you, if you'd like. If that's something you want.
Was he speaking true? It might make everything worse when her imagination was still constrained by its own limit. That did not stop it from having a mind of its own; it made the knots in her stomach worsen as Emilia grew weak in her ability to stop it all from wreaking havoc inside of her. What would it be like to touch it all, to see him? To finally sate that endless curiosity he had stoked that refused to settle?
She wanted to.
She wanted to and when Mrs. Halabi would quickly change the channel because something inappropriate would appear on screen, telling Emilia that that was not something a young girl like her should be exposed to, it made her feel guilty, thick with shame.
Maybe it was wrong. To think these sorts of things that she knew little about, to think these sorts of things about a friend, to think these sorts of things about Sirius. It was wrong verging on the side of sinful were Emilia religious. Best to keep it all just locked far out of her reach. Pretend it was never even there. Pretend none of it existed.
She could pretend. She would have to. There was no other option. Something had always been wrong with her and this was no different. It was always easier to ignore all that was wrong with her than to let it be fully realised.
His letters were never ending. At least it was a distraction she could use, caught in a cycle of writing and waiting, hoping that Mrs. Halabi never caught on to the presence of an owl that glared at Emilia through her windows.
Emilia's prayers were answered when Mrs. Halabi insisted on going shopping once the stores had opened once more after Christmas Day, telling her it was best for them to step out of their abodes for a day and Emilia leaped at the chance, grateful to have anything that would allow her to not think about Sirius or his letters for even a short time.
The weather refused to take a turn for the better, the snow falling thick and fat on the ground, gathering in dunes on the footpath and at least it fell with a slowness that made it more bearable; Mrs. Halabi had refused to let her leave the place without a pair of gloves, scarf and a hat to top it all off, waddling behind the woman through the aisles as she sweated out through the knitted material. The Christmas shoppers had lessened now that the holidays were all but over, yet the drop in prices still managed to draw in quite the crowd, people eager to spend money on items that had been halved in the clearance.
More than once, Emilia had to stand as Mrs. Halabi held a pair of pants to her, tutting that she needed to start getting taller or chiding Emilia when she pulled a face at a less than appealing jumper that her neighbour had plucked off of the rack. Emilia knew her sense of style was almost non-existent, but even Mrs. Halabi made her realise her standards in fashion. Still didn't stop Mrs. Halabi from buying Emilia a pair of trousers that would never see the light of day save for wearing them out of politeness.
She had spoken too soon about this being her saving grace.
Emilia was close to passing out from the sweltering warmth provided to her by the layers she had been stuffed into, lingering behind Mrs. Halabi who was torn between a scarf that was an off-white colour and an eggshell hue when she pretended to flick through the rails of clothing; rows and rows of clothing that held none of her interest, delving further into the store until she found herself in the men's section, catching sight of women hauling their gloomy looking sons and husbands who were enforced into the role of pack mule. Unintentionally, Emilia's eyes wandered away from all the brightly coloured clothes to a more muted section, a sea of greys, blacks, and dark washed clothes that caught her attention.
All of it out of her price range. And also not her style whatsoever; still, she perused the shelves, pretending to observe what was on display until finally - she saw hanging on a hanger behind a terrible looking corduroy jacket a strip of leather and her fingers pinched the sleeve, tugging it out and slipping it off the rack, eyeing it critically.
The smell of leather perforated the air and it shone under the harsh lights of the store, weighty in one hand but sturdy, definitely not made from something cheap. It was a hefty thing, offering protection against the cold should one need it and the inline was soft, comfortable.
Definitely far better than whatever Sirius usually wore. He would be better off with something like this, not with what he always had on him, the leather worn in and losing life from his wears of wearing it.
They had not spoken about buying presents for one another but… she technically still owed him for showing up empty-handed on his birthday, no matter if he insisted that going to Hogsmeade more than made up for it. Besides, was it not a practical thing to buy someone? Last thing she wanted was for him to continue complaining about the cold and yet refuse to dress appropriately for the weather because of how stubborn he was. If anything, something like this would be more for Emilia than it would be for Sirius as it would save her having to listen to him grouch about freezing to death needlessly.
Emilia pursed her lips, brows furrowed together; it wasn't weird to buy things like this for friends, not that she would have any knowledge about any of it. She had seen the girls in the dorm exchange gifts with each other on numerous occasions, and it wasn't any different. Sirius was her friend and it wasn't strange for friends to buy each other gifts even without cause for celebration.
Was it? She had no way of knowing.
"See anything that catches your eye, sweetheart?" came a voice and Emilia whirled to see Mrs. Halabi at her shoulder, observing the jacket with a sharp eye and a frown on her face, testing the material between her fingers and holding the sleeves out as she washed her critical gaze over it before shaking her head. "Oh, I think that's far too big for you, Emilia. And I also don't think it's your style."
Emilia was inclined to agree. If she had intended to buy it for herself, she would have looked absolutely ridiculous in it.
"No, I was…" Emilia started and pinned the warmth in her cheeks down to the scarf and hat that she was wearing, unable to look Mrs. Halabi's in the eyes; there was no point in trying to hide or deny anything, the woman was far too sharp for her own good and would cut through the layers Emilia attempted to hide behind with ease. "I wasn't going to buy it for me."
Mrs. Halabi diverted her focus to Emilia and raised her brows, lips pressed together as though to hide a smile but failing miserably. "For your dear friend, Sirius?"
"I told you he's - he isn't my dear anything," Emilia hastily refuted but it might as well have not been said at all as Mrs. Halabi hummed, going back once more to continue her examination of the jacket.
"Of course not, love," Mrs. Halabi said absentmindedly, nodding her head like she was entertaining a child who was talking endlessly about dinosaurs and toys and unimportant things. "Let me have a look."
Emilia stepped back, wringing her hands together as Mrs. Halabi inspected every inch of the jacket, drawing near to eye the stitching and the inseams, the inline rolled between pinched fingers and rolling back the cuffs to make sure there was nothing loose that could result in the whole thing unravelling. The longer Emilia stewed in her uncertainty, the tighter her fingers wound around each other to the point of breaking entirely.
"Is it weird?" Emilia suddenly asked, unable to handle it anymore.
"Of course not, it's a perfectly fine jacket for a young man. I see it's all the rage with boys your age now," Mrs. Halabi assured but Emilia shook her head despite knowing that the older woman could not see her.
"No, I mean… is it weird? If I buy him something like this?" Emilia elaborated and Mrs. Halabi ceased, turning to look at Emilia curiously and she burned beneath the woman's eyes, dropping to look at her shoes and taking a great interest in the scuffed linoleum that lined the floors. "We didn't exactly talk about buying gifts and I don't want it to be weird buying him a jacket but I thought he might like it since he has one similar but this looks like it's better quality and it's warmer, too. He's always talking about how cold he is so I thought that this would be better than what he already wears. But I don't know if it's weird or not."
Emilia's jaw clamped itself shut because she was only going to make a fool of herself for trying to defend herself over nothing but it was like all those times when people couldn't understand how it was that she and Sirius were friends, all those times that she tried to scrub up a rebuttal because people didn't understand that who she and Sirius were, that they were… friends, yes, but it was said the word like it was a loose-fitting thing, trying to blanket them both with a word that never felt right enough. Even for her, trying to argue in her own mind, such a word fell too short but what other word could exist?
Emilia never had friends before. How was she supposed to know what was normal for them to do? No one ever showed her, taught her, anything and learning by experience only made her more aware of how much she lacked.
Mrs. Halabi's face softened, flickering with something gently, and she reached out to squeeze Emilia's arm.
"It isn't strange at all, Emilia," Mrs. Halabi responded and relief flooded throughout Emilia. "I think it's a lovely gift. When else will he buy something like this for himself? Men think they can do anything, but you try to get them to go and buy themselves a pair of socks and you'll wonder how they think they run the world."
"It's £17, I have the money."
"Goodness, that much? So expensive," Mrs. Halabi gawped, reeling at the price and studied the jacket once more, the price of it making it less of an appealing gift. The corners of her mouth turned downwards, stepping back with a finger tapping at her chin as she deliberated on behalf of Emilia. "Not to mention they have it only in the one size…"
"No, it's his size," Emilia affirmed hastily and the look Mrs. Halabi shot her way was enough to make Emilia want to wilt right where she stood. "I can tell."
"Friendship intuition, is it?" came her neighbour's chortle and clicked her tongue, narrowing her stare at the jacket once more before she nodded, stepping away to rifle in her purse for something before pulling out a piece of paper and shoving it into Emilia's gloved palm. "Here's a tenner. Don't even think about arguing with me about it or I'll wring your ear."
Emilia knew when to pick her battles. This was not one of them. "You do that anyways."
"You can use the extra money you save to ask the lady to wrap it up real nice."
Emilia didn't know why there needed to be any reason to wrap the jacket so nicely since its packaging would be ripped off but Mrs. Halabi would hear none of it; for a woman who didn't celebrate Christmas, she insisted on having everything that was bought to be adorned with bows and pretty paper. The bag holding the jacket was heavy and Emilia took on her role of carrying as much as she could as repayment for the loan of the money given to her, and she tried her best to wrestle the doubt sewing seeds in her chest.
Would Sirius like it? She had no way of knowing. Despite Mrs. Halabi's insistence that the gift would not go unappreciated, Emilia still remained unsure; not that Sirius would ever say that he hated it, she knew he was not capable of being so mean to her, but… Emilia was uncertain. There was no point in regretting the purchase now as Mrs. Halabi had made sure to take the receipt to prevent Emilia from getting cold feet and scuttling her way back to the counter.
"Now, that's all finished. I'm famished, let's get ourselves back before my feet freeze to the footpath," Mrs. Halabi announced and Emilia was more than inclined to agree with her; the snow was building up outside and she longed to return to Mrs. Halabi's warm house to have the chill clinging to her bones thaw out as frost was already beginning to build up on her gloves.
The trek back almost proved perilous and Emilia nearly slipped on ice unknown to her more than once, almost taking Mrs. Halabi down with her in a heap. Sirius would have caught her if she had. But he wasn't there.
Taking the fall would have been less painful than remembering that.
Mrs. Halabi was fiddling with her keys as Emilia hovered behind her shoulder, desperate for shoulder when she heart a soft, crooning noise and her eyes immediately found the rounded shadow of Leslie the Owl at her bedroom window above, eyes peering down at her and scratching at the letter in his mouth, threatening to drop it or gobble it up if she did not make haste.
Just as Mrs. Halabi unlocked the door, Emilia was already rushing to make her way around the gate to the front door opposite, throwing a hand over her shoulder as a brief farewell. "I'm going to put my bags into the house, I'll be over in a bit!"
"Don't take too long, I need all the help I can get to cook dinner!" Mrs. Halabi called after her but Emilia was already pushing the front door open, stumbling up the stairs to her bedroom, shopping bags nearly making her legs go out from under her as they tangled with her lips. She threw open her bedroom door, panting for breath and sweating beneath the layers of clothes she had on before she tossed the bags aside, closing the distance between the window and opening it to allow the bird inside, a routine in their interactions.
"Hi Leslie, do you have a letter for me?" she questioned, a giddy nature about her as the owl stared at her, unamused and dropping the letter in its beak down into her waiting hands. It didn't feel as heavy as the others, pages not densely packed into a thin envelope and Emilia felt the deflation of her heart behind her ribs as she tore it open, finding only a single page waiting for her.
Love,
Euphemia is desperate for help with the telephone. Do you have a number or something? Apparently everyone has one. Fleamont doesn't know it and keeps insisting there's no such thing. Write back as soon as you get this.
Sirius.
Emilia's head cocked to the side in curiosity, flipping the page over but found it barren. That was it. Nothing else. Now she knew why her brevity had been annoying to him. She was left famished with a hunger only he could sate and she was still half starved from what little was given to her.
"Why would he possibly need my number?" Emilia questioned the owl who paused in its grooming, large eyes blinking, knowing as much as she did and giving no response. She groaned, pressing her face into the parchment in disbelief. "I'm asking an owl. I think I'm going crazy."
" Hoot ."
"Couldn't have said it better myself."
Emilia wrote her reply, keeping it short as there was not much else to respond to beyond the only question he had asked of her and sent Leslie off with her letter, watching him disappear until there was nothing in the sky beyond grey clouds and the streaking snow that grew fat blankets atop of the deadened trees below. The snow provided cover for the increase of owls in the area, both Sirius' and Lily's, the latter of which had not been a frequent visitor as much as the former's but last thing Emilia needed was to explain to either how their familiar had been caught by animal control and most likely released back into a wild from which there was no survival.
That disappointment continued to carry on within Emilia at Sirius' far too short letter that might as well have been a note due to its length. She tried not to sulk as she hauled herself over to Mrs. Halabi's, carelessly kicking her shoes off at the door and hanging up her jacket and her scarf; it was normal for the amount of writing to dwindle between them due to there not being much else to talk about.
Maybe she was just selfish.
Had she always been selfish or was it because of Sirius she was becoming more aware of it?
Not even Mrs. Halabi's tajine could make her feel any better, picking at her food but trying her best to scoop mouthfuls of it into her in order to not be rude at the effort that was put into it. Emilia schooled her face to keep hidden within her the gloom, not wanting to be called out for sulking and end up having to explain to her neighbour that the food was nice and she enjoyed it a lot, she was just a bit upset over the fact Sirius had sent her a letter that wasn't really a letter and it wasn't that she actually disappointed by it, her emotions didn't turn so quickly because of him like that she simply wished he had said more because she missed him.
She missed him so much and no amount of her neighbour's baking could fill the gaping hole that was widening within her each passing day.
Emilia had managed to pull herself away late into the evening after Mrs. Halabi made her promise to return in the morning so that the woman could start on altering the clothes bought for Emilia to make sure they fit her properly; her shoes scuffed the white ladened pavement of the footpath, kicking a gathered mountain of it out of spite for its perfection. Emilia fumbled for her keys, placing it into the lock when she heard a muffled ringing screech from inside; passing the threshold, Emilia eyed the phone as though it were a shadowed monster that might have swallowed up her hand should she try to pick it up.
No one ever called the house phone, and Emilia highly doubted there were many people who would willingly call up anyone residing at the house for light conversation; was it her aunt or her uncle? Were they calling because something had happened on their holiday? Doubtful, they more than likely forgot that Emilia was even back from Hogwarts for Christmas.
She lingered too long in her decision and the bell of the phone ceased. Silence cut sharp through the house and Emilia stared at the phone; how strange. Perhaps it was a mistake. Not as if anyone -
The handset began to rattle where it was perched and Emilia's heart jumped at the sudden intrusion. Whoever, or whatever, it was that was calling must be doing so with urgency that it sent vibrations through the other end of the line.
Hesitantly, Emilia reached out and picked the phone up, unsure of what to expect as she brought it close to her ear, praying that it didn't suddenly grow teeth and chew on her cheek as its cool touch graced her skin. "Hello…?"
Her hesitant greeting was cut by a sound that tore straight through her chest. "Emilia!"
Emilia's legs nearly went out from under her from the punch to her chest at hearing him, a nauseous roll of her stomach that had a cutting gasp ripping past her lips; his voice, it was him and Emilia tore the headset from her ear, staring at it and praying it was not some cruel trick of her spiralling mind but it remained perfectly normal, housing nothing more than a few wires and the sound of Sirius' muffled voice.
Sirius - his voice. It was broken through a crackle by the wires but it was his, it was him .
Emilia's voice was buried at the bottom of her throat, unable to dig it out with her bare fingers and perhaps she could blame it due to the days she was left without the mere sound of his voice, but it left her unable to breathe . His voice in her ear, drowning out everything else and she was lost beneath the waves of it all, of him. That all familiar agony wrapped itself around her and she could not carry the weight of it within her, the weight of him in her heart too much for her to bear. "Sirius? How - you're calling me, how?"
Emilia heard the endless shuffle of him through the phone, his voice rattling inside of her skull, scratching into the bone and burrowing there so that she would never be able to forget it even if she wanted to. "I told you Euphemia wanted to get a telephone to talk to her muggle friend! That's why I asked for your phone number, Lily told James that you needed a number to call another person, isn't it fantastic!"
"Yes it's - you know you don't need to shout, right? I can hear you loud and clear without blowing out my eardrums," Emilia explained, knees growing weak and she had to place herself into a spot beside the table stand, all too lightheaded and heart fluttering far too fast for her to keep up with; she dug the heel of her palm into her chest, trying to ease its endless movement to no avail because on the other end, she could hear his breathing and murmured chatter of the Potter household that most have been ear piercing to experience in person. Or maybe this house was far too silent. "That's good. I didn't expect you to ring me."
That disappointment that had been swelling in her chest dissipated and how was it that she had survived thus far without hearing his voice? If she tried hard enough, she was able to imagine him right beside her as he had been countless times before, whispers wringing in her ears. "I've been ringing you since I got your letter back from Leslie, it just kept making this annoying, weird noise every time you didn't answer."
That was hours ago, there was no way Sirius had been trying to contact her in all that time. But Sirius never lied to her, not like this. How many times did he try only to be met with a dial tone? She felt sheepish over her despondency regarding his all too short letter now that she knew he had been wasting hours trying to call her.
Emilia was thankful he was not there to see the warmth in her cheeks.
"Sorry. I wasn't at home. I was visiting my neighbour next door."
"James kept insisting I was doing it wrong, even though I absolutely was not doing it wrong. He nearly exploded the bloody thing when he called Lily. She tore him a new one for it," Sirius told her and his voice turned down an octave as he spoke, muttering into the headset that tied them together over such a vast distance. His breath was a crackle, buzzing in her bones and was it possible to miss the sound of a person's breathing? It must be because Emilia realised it in that moment that she had. "This is much better than writing a letter by far. At least now I can save myself a cramp in the hand and I get to hear your voice. I need to get one of myself for the apartment so I can call you whenever I like. I thought I was going to go mental trying to remember what you sounded like."
At least he was braver to say what she was too afraid to even utter. Even when nothing but a few strips of wires connected them both together, it was like he was able to read her face, to delve deep and tear out such hidden secrets that clung to her marrow.
Emilia pulled her legs close up to her, feet hanging off of the edge as she wrapped an arm around her knees, tucked together atop of the seat as she felt no embarrassment with the grin on her face, knowing he was not able to see it. Dangerous thing, this phone; without him there to witness it, it felt easier to allow her these small delights. "It's only been a few days, Sirius. You can't forget a person's voice in that short of a time."
"It's not that I forgot it, it's that I miss it. Why wouldn't I miss the sound of your voice? Don't you miss my voice?" he asked her, a whining edge to his voice and Emilia nearly folded in on herself, forehead pressed to the top of her legs and it was a relief that there was no such thing that existed that might allow him to see her in real time, muggle or otherwise.
"That depends. Maybe when it gets too quiet and I feel like having a worm in my ear," she said and her cheeks ached from the grin that grew with such unfamiliar ease.
There was a pause.
"They don't put worms into this thing, do they?" He sounded incredulous, but ready to believe her if she affirmed his worry.
She did not constrain the bubble of laughter that burst within her, a weariness about it as it had felt so long since she had been able to laugh like that; just by the mere presence of only his voice, Sirius had no problems with drawing such sounds from her. A house such as this was barren of actions like smiling and laughter, but with Sirius, it was a constant. "No, Sirius. They don't put worms into the telephone."
There was a shuffle and a long crackle, as though a sigh of relief escaped him at her words.
"Fleamont's holed himself up in his study with books of the stuff trying to understand how muggles make this technology thing work. Euphemia's been telling him he's going to give himself a nosebleed from trying to think too hard," he told her and Emilia's hand found itself curling around and around the spiralled cord of the phone, the plastic smooth over her skin and her fingers tried to trace the shape like they had down with Sirius' own curls. It wasn't the same, nothing ever would be able to compare to the sensation of any of that. She clutched onto the cord, wanting nothing more to take firm in her grasp the physical weight of Sirius' voice.
"Well, don't ask me anything because I don't understand it myself."
She heard him give a snort, no doubt a roll of eyes following the noise as it left him. "You're the smart one, you should know."
"Why am I the smart one? You get better marks than me."
"I mean that you're life smart. And also book smart. You have more brains than I ever will and Euphemia can attest to that," Sirius said, refusing to let her debate him on the subject and Emilia knew he would not budge on the matter. Her mouth opened to speak when there was a muffled shout, indiscernible background noise and Sirius cursed beneath his breath, breaking away but still loud enough that Emilia pulled the headset away from her ear to save a ringing echoing in her skull. "What? Nothing! I'm just talking to Emilia!"
"Who's that?"
"The woman herself, she's - " Sirius began to explain but was promptly cut off when a scuffle broke out, voices rising when an unseen battle ensued and Emilia heard Sirius's voice take on an irritated tone to it, "No, she doesn't want to talk to you! Euphemia, I haven't spoken to her in ages, I need to talk to her now. Why do you need to talk to her? Can't I just - "
Whatever Sirius was fighting against clearly won and he forfeited his right to the telephone as a different voice spoke through.
"Emilia, love! How are you? Isn't this a nifty thing? I honestly might start using it entirely and do away with Leslie!" came Euphemia Potter's voice through the phone and Emilia was able to tell that she was speaking through a wide grin from her end of the line. All the way from Mayfair, Emilia knew that the whining cry of protest came from the older witch's son.
"What?! Mum! You can't!" James yelled out from a far off distance, aghast and there was a shushing noise from Euphemia, hissing at him to quit his whinging otherwise the owl would end up as dinner that evening.
"Hush, James. You too, Sirius. Stop your pouting, I only want to ask the girl how she is," Euphemia chastised and Emilia's fingers pressed to her lips, knowing that a laugh could be heard even if they didn't see the way her shoulders shook with trying to keep it contained. A huff of air left Euphemia before she turned her attention back once more to the conversation at hand. "How are you, Emilia? Is everything good at home?"
Emilia didn't understand why things could not possibly be going well since Euphemia Potter knew nothing about Emilia. Must simply be how mothers were - always worried, always wanting to make sure that all was well even for children that they had met for a total of two minutes on a train platform. Emilia nodded, forgetting herself as she realised a verbal response was needed. "Yes, Mrs. Potter. I hope you're having a good Christmas."
"Oh, please, you can call me Euphemia. No need for such formalities, you're a friend of Sirius!" Euphemia explained and, behind her voice, Emilia could hear a grunt from Sirius, like he was the victim of a pointed gaze from the older witch. "Tell me, Sirius has been asking to make some lemon cake for you, I wanted to know if you wanted one or two of them."
The warmth that was gathering in Emilia's face instantly slipped away, running pale at the statement out of mortification; he didn't dare ask something like that to James' mother! Who would ever ask someone to do something like that for a person they didn't even know? Sirius was quite lucky to not be at Emilia's side as he would be at the risk of being burned alive by her glower.
The cord her fingers were entwined in squeaked in protest at her gripping hold of it. "Mrs. Pot - Euphemia, you don't have to. He shouldn't have asked that, I'm okay."
"Nonsense! I should make just the one so it'll have you knocking at my door to have more!" Euphemia laughed and Emilia wasn't able to find it in within her to insist against the entire idea; she was going to absolutely kill Sirius for even suggesting such a thing, no matter if her mouth watered at the prospect over the lemon cake both he and James had talked up for so long. There was another muttered hissing from the other side and Euphemia's breath bled through the headset. "Oh, alright, Sirius, you can have it back. Stop making such a face, you can have her all to yourself now. I must go, Emilia. The boy is ever so eager to talk to you. Cheerio!"
Rattling ensued over the passing of the phone once more and she knew the irritated gust of air that bled out through the handset belonged to Sirius; she recognised him even by breathing, there was no part of him that would ever go forgotten by her.
"I'm being driven up the wall here, give me one second," Sirius grumbled and Emilia listened to a shuffle, the soft hum of voices behind him drifting and she ignored the soft buzzing crackle of the phone in his silence before she heard a click, encasing Sirius in a place far from the chaos of the Potter household and he sounded clearer. There was no one else to hear them both, save for each other. "Okay, I think I can hide out here. The string is long enough that I can bring it into the cupboard with me."
He spoke softly, as though he was fearful someone else might come along as Euphemia had and wrestle the phone away from him. "It's the cord, not the string, Sirius."
"Whatever, it's the same thing," Sirius grumbled. "Don't you prefer this over writing a letter to me?"
With Sirius denied any view of her, it made Emilia feel that bit more inclined to smile softly without the nervousness of him pointing it out, remarking on pink cheeks or risk him being to hear the flutter of her heart; if forced to communicate only through letters was the easiest manner of talking to him without that constant clenching in her chest, talking over the phone was a close second. Hearing his voice, the gentle breeze of his breath that could not wash over her, picturing the smile on his face perfectly when he spoke - it was not enough, but it eased the ache buried within her minutely.
Emilia adjusted herself on the chair, pretending to deliberate over the question when she already knew the answer; the only negative part to all of this was that once she hung up the phone, there would be nothing of him left behind. No physical reminder to prove he existed and it wasn't summer and she wasn't going to wake up at any second to a time when she had nothing and was nothing to anyone. She was becoming far too greedy for her own; given scraps and there she was, daring to try and have more than what was allotted to her.
"I suppose. Saves me time trying to read your horrible handwriting,"
"It's not that bad! I'll have you know, I have the second best handwriting out of the other lads," Sirius griped, voice spoken through a pout that was not difficult to conjure in her mind. If she grinned any wider, she was going to split the flesh. Or, worse, if anyone saw her, they would think she was demented.
"Who's the best?"
"Remus, obviously. I have a stroke anytime I try to copy what James has written. A house elf would do better in holding a quill than he ever would," Sirius snorted and Emilia remembered his first letter, how he had mentioned Remus had good handwriting. But she was strictly forbidden from ever sending Remus a letter, which made no sense; she didn't understand why she would ever send him a letter especially when she had so little time to even write back to Lily due to Sirius monopolising all precious moments in his haste for her responses. "You have nice handwriting. Euphemia thinks so too."
Emilia's face blazed, a stutter of air tripping down her throat as her fingers strangled the phone cord at the prospect that someone other than Sirius had read what she wrote to him; did he show them? She hoped not. There was nothing entirely embarrassing, but it still felt… private . She wanted only Sirius to see what she had written, to be the bearer of all of her words. "She saw my letters?"
"By accident. I had them under my pillow and one must have fallen without me realising it. I don't know which one it was, hopefully you hadn't written anything too embarrassing," he clarified and Emilia's lips tugged into a frown slightly; under his pillow? Why would he keep them there? They were bound to become wrinkled and creased if kept there, or maybe he didn't worry about those sorts of things.
They were only letters, after all.
Emilia kept Sirius' letter in her wardrobe, folded neatly and tucked away so that they would never come to harm even if by accident.
"It's a good thing I didn't write down my murder confession and send it to you."
"Hey, you ever need a body buried, I know a place or two where I can help you hide it. No questions asked. Well there'd be one and that'd only be to ask if I need to bring a shovel with me," Sirius said with a sense of confidence with the promise. More than once Emilia had considered strangling him for his lack of thinking whenever he spoke, or wishing for her own death were it not for the shuddering reminder he might try and follow after her just so he could annoy her for all of eternity. A heaved breath escaped through Sirius and without the chaos of the Potter household, it was only him and only her. If she closed her eyes, she might be able to trick herself into thinking he was right there beside her. "I miss you, you know that? I do. I miss you."
Hearing him say what he had written over and over and over again made her ribs dig into her tender flesh, bones piercing without much care for the mangled mess they might have caused. Deep inside of her, a part of Emilia delighted knowing that she did not suffer alone in the absence of Sirius, though doubted he would agree to the degree it afflicted him as it did her.
She would never tell him, of course; it was weird of her to miss someone this much for such a short period of time. She tried pinning on the fact Sirius was her first real friend and she never had the same chances as everyone to be away from someone temporarily as they had; in her mind, it might as well have been forever because she finally had a friend for the first time in her seventeen years of being on this planet and was right back to being who and what she was before him: alone and lonely.
"So you've said. More than once, I might add," she said, arm around her tucked up legs tightening as she hoped to quash that unsettling feeling flooding her stomach, wanting to grind it down into the dirt until it was six feet under and buried with the rest of the skeletons she had forced away. "You're being oddly sentimental. Is it because of the moon? Are you going to try and tell me not to feel alone because we're looking at the same sky?"
"Oh, please, I'm not the person who's affected by the moon," Sirius sniggered, a joke hanging in his voice and Emilia frowned because out of all of his jokes she never understood but laughed at regardless, that might be the worst one yet.
"Is that supposed to be a weird period joke?"
A splutter burst through the phone, Sirius undoubtedly choking on what she said and on his own spit. She wondered if he was blushing. What a sight that would have made. "What? No!"
"Are you embarrassed because I said the word period?" Emilia couldn't help herself teasing him, feeling that bit braver knowing that he was not able to see her, not able to grind her willpower down into dust until there was nothing left by simply pressing himself up beside her, grey eyes sparkling as brightly as his smile that was preserved solely to make her turn as red as cherries.
"Hardly. I think I know too much about a girl's body to ever be embarrassed about what goes on with it," Sirius grumbled, more so to himself and Emilia's ears were nothing more than an intruder to pick up on such a comment. Oddly, instead of her usual reaction of scrunching her nose up and pushing him away if he had said so in her company, Emilia felt her throat close up, a flush clawing its way up the collar of her shirt because she knew what he meant by that.
Sirius, unlike her, did not have scarce opportunities to experience what all normal teenagers did. Emilia was quick to block her mind of such thinking as she had been doing so these past few days, not wanting to follow a path that involved anything of the sort about Sirius.
"I didn't realise I was speaking with an expert about female biology."
"Well, I have enough research and study done to know enough." He said it like she should have found it amusing but it was not. It made that scummy feeling wash through her in a way that was no longer unfamiliar to her and no amount of scrubbing herself clean would be able to make it go away.
"Is that so? And what did you find out in your extensive research? I'm just dying to know what you've learned. Tell me everything that you know about my body, then," she joked, hoping to make him more embarrassed and to hear him stammer again as he had done so before. But then, when her voice lulled and teetered off into a pause that stretched into a silence, Emilia feared that Sirius had hung up on her until she heard a cutting, crackled breath through the receiver and she frowned. Briefly, Emilia pulled away from the phone, staring at it quizzically before returning it to her ear once more, close to digging her fingers over the vast distance to draw a response from him because she had already spent too long without hearing his voice. "Sirius?"
For a moment, Sirius did not speak. Then, a shifting movement and he cleared his throat, trying to banish an odd croak that lingered. "Yeah?"
"You're not saying anything. It makes it more awkward over the phone than in person," she said softly, twiddling with the cord of the phone to dispel that strange bout of nervousness in her at his failure to reply accordingly to her jape at him.
"It does?"
"A bit."
Sirius let her sit in the absence of his voice for longer than she liked. "Do you feel awkward?"
He spoke gently, whispering to her through the phone and her mouth felt precariously dry. She hadn't felt awkward around Sirius since the beginning, when she failed in finding her footing in their friendship, not sure how to go about any of this, any of him.
Now, it felt like she was awkward for an entirely different reason though could not tear through the layers that guarded such an emotion; so close to heart did she keep it all that not even Emilia was privy to what lay inside of it, but knew for certain that Sirius was the cause of it. If she smiled too much, blushed too deeply, fumbled for his hand too often - it was like the beginning all over again. All the way back in September, stumbling over uneven steps that led her to friendship and here it was once more, an endless cycle that was making her dizzy.
Emilia's legs ached from how tightly clutched to them, chin resting atop her knees as she untied her tongue. "Not really."
"Maybe it wouldn't be awkward if we were together," Sirius said and her nails threatened to tear through the material of her trousers, nearly pulling out the thread of its seams.
"Together?" It left her in a rush because it beckoned to her, the possibility of Sirius being there with her too enticing as it formed in her mind. Did he know how much she thought about it, wanted it? Had he been able to read her letters and peer past the lines and see Emilia for all that she was: a desperate creature who feared abandonment but denied its nature for fear of losing what little it had managed to wrangle into its grasp?
No doubt Sirius was already frowning at her question. "Why can't I come visit you?"
Emilia stomach churned restlessly, trying to not topple from where she perched on the chair as she brought herself close together. The silence of the house bore down on top of her shoulders, crushing her and it would not be able to withstand the noise Sirius brought with him but it was no less than it deserved because he would hate it here and see to its complete destruction and part of her didn't care if that happened.
"Do you really want to visit me that much? You'll see me soon enough as it is," Emilia muttered, trying to dig herself free because she was already caving when she knew it could never be possible. If her aunt ever found out that Emilia was bringing strangers, let alone a boy , to the house…
It didn't take a lot of effort to imagine the sneer on her aunt's face, remarking how just like your mother Emilia was.
"That's too long. I thought hearing your voice would be enough, but it isn't. I think it makes me want to see you even more," Sirius pressed and squeezed her heart to hear him say such words to her, murmuring softly and sweetly and enticing her. "I already wanted that before, but I think this has just made it worse."
"It's - "
"Not the best idea, you said," he finished. "Why? Why is it not the best idea?"
Because - because, because, because. Emilia began to feel that she was only truly happy when she was with Sirius and she didn't want him here at the source of her misery and make him feel it too. He had spoken to her before of his own house that was barely a house and Emilia knew enough to not subject him to such an ordeal ever again.
And yet.
Emilia saw it clear in her mind; his nose turned up at her uncle's plethora of books and laughing when Emilia showed him the one Leslie had ruined with a disgruntlement about her that was far too shallow. Him snooping through every corner of the house, even the places Emilia dare not tread that included her uncle's study, the guest bedroom her aunt forbade her ever to step foot within. Tearing open cabinets and critiquing her aunt's selection of fine wines that he wouldn't be able to keep his hands off of. Eyes noticing the bare walls, and her even more barren room. The small collection of his letters she had filed neatly away to keep them protected because she despised the possibility they might be thrown away.
She dared not tell him that she had already envisioned it all, including the idea of him throwing himself down on the bed and refusing to shove over for her. It was secret, only for her to feel ashamed about because Emilia knew he would never allow her to offer to take the sofa or a spot on the ground and wouldn't even entertain the idea of him doing such a thing.
All of it, so possible and out of reach, left claw marks inside of her, trying to find an escape that refused to exist.
For Sirius to be at the house, she needed to tell him everything, to explain it all and how she never meant to keep it secret, never meant to hide it because she never wanted to think about any of that, never wanted to think about her mother and the gurgles that left her as she died or the wardrobe Emilia was trapped within for four days, sitting in her own filth. It wasn't right to do that to him so suddenly, and who was to say she even had the ability to get the words out of her?
Emilia unwound her arm from encasing her legs, her palm digging into her chest as it had done of late whenever she thought of Sirius and him being with her - or lack thereof. It was a double-edged sword and Emilia never knew which way she was going to topple; what misery she would bring as always to tell him such things about her at Christmas time of all times. Not that there ever seemed a good time to tell someone such secrets.
But it needed to happen - eventually.
If she began to explain it there and then over the phone, Emilia doubted it wouldn't take long letting it all gush out of her before she heard a sharp crack of him Apparating in her neighbourhood.
Emilia bowed her head in guilt; everytime she neared convincing herself of one option, it was as though the other reared its head to make it seem more appealing to her. "It's complicated."
"Do you not want me to meet your mum or the rest of your family?" It was as though he was reaching across the distance that tore them apart to tear her heart apart in her chest, as tattered as the book Leslie had destroyed.
"That's not it," Emilia denied and it wasn't like it was a lie. Even if he was here, there was no one for him to meet because her aunt and uncle were on another continent and her mother was dead and would always be dead and thinking about her never brought her back to life so why bother with memories that served no purpose? "I just… I would feel bad. You haven't seen the Potters since September. You should spend time with them."
Pathetic. That's what she was. Pathetic, needy, pitiful and wretched in every sense of the word.
"They wouldn't mind. If anything, they would only be upset if I didn't bring you here."
"You're just trying to make excuses," she half joked weakly.
"Says you," Sirius retorted, huffing through the line and it wasn't the same without him there beside her. "Just once. I can visit you just once and then I won't bother you to let me visit again for the rest of the holidays. I want to see you. Can't I just see you once?"
"Sirius…" She was at her wits' end and Emilia's face scrunched up, eyes squeezed closed so tightly stars burst to life and died just as quickly in the darkness that swallowed her up. She didn't want him in this house but not for the reasons he believed to be true; she didn't want him to see it all, to see the truth of Emilia's roots as malformed and rotted as they were. He made her forget all about it and made her feel like she was more than she actually was.
With him, Emilia wasn't that small girl with scabbed knees and grubby hands in clothes that never fit her as she wandered back to a house that was far too derelict to be a home, the stench of alcohol her mother drowned herself in that nearly brought her down under the surface of it too. The sounds of her mother weeping and the shadows of strange men filtering through the gap beneath her door as they passed it endlessly. The battered wardrobe she tucked herself away in and the pair of arms that scooped her out, carrying her and how she had to tell them about how she watched her mother die because she never learned to pick up her own shoes.
When Emilia was around Sirius, she forgot all that. Forgot the day she landed on her aunt and uncle's doorstep in clothes far too big for her and the paleness in her aunt's face that was a stranger to her when told that her sister had passed away, leaving only Emilia behind. It was the first and last time Emilia had seen her aunt stumble without being induced with wine, scratching for purchase and falling to her knees.
With Sirius, none of that existed.
She was no longer the girl who couldn't make friends because she never learned how to play their games and was ignored when she begged them to explain it to her, wasn't the girl who never knew how to talk to other children because they spoke in secret languages with one another that she was not born with the capability of understanding. Always looking from the outside in because no one ever tried to bend the rules to fit around her and making her spend her entire life being reminded of the fact. It was hard to find a place in a world that never fit around her, never made room for Emilia for all that she was and all that she lacked.
She wasn't even the girl before September who was desperate to hoard her own heart because, even when she tried to hide behind the illusion of apathy she was swathed in, Emilia knew that she feared that constant denial of everything she ever wanted simply because it was not in her nature to know how to procure any of it.
But Sirius never cared about any of that, never cared about all her faults for which there were many, and here she was, unable to allow him the one request he beseeched of her. Why could she never make him happy? Why must her fear triumph over her desire for love at every turn? Why was she bound by her nature that she could never fully break away from?
Sirius lapsed into a silence and Emilia heard a faint knocking sound, as though his head made connection with a surface. "I did it again, didn't I?"
The question was enough to draw Emilia from the swirling, poisonous fog eclipsing her mind as she sat up straighter on the chair, brows drawn together. "Did what?"
"Tried to force you to do what you don't want to do. Or what you can't do," Sirius sighed and it left him wearily because that's all Emilia ever did to him - exhausted him. "I just want to see that you're okay. That's all it is. I miss you."
"Is there any reason why I wouldn't be okay?" she asked, fearful that he might already know the answer and chew her out for trying to keep it secret for so long.
"I don't know, is there?" Sirius shot back and luckily for Emilia he was not there to see the wince that flickered over her, recoiling from the sharpness of his words that were still too dull to be construed as mean. It wasn't like he was wrong. She wasn't okay and it was because he was not there and she still saw herself as some sort of martyr for trudging on through it alone. "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that."
"I know you didn't," Emilia comforted in an effort to soothe his worry. Emilia shifted the phone from one hand to the other, dropping a leg to let it swing aimlessly in the air, watching the movement and becoming entranced by it. Without being ensnared by Sirius physically being present, it made it easier to unglue her tongue from the roof of her mouth to waggle free all that had been occupying her thoughts in the days they had said goodbye to one another. "I want to see you too, Sirius."
Emilia picked up on the sharp breath that cut through him that he didn't bother to conceal, as though he was surprised she admitted such a thing, let alone ever felt it. "You do?"
Emilia couldn't fathom why he found it hard to believe it. Maybe because she found it always so hard to say these things to him when he was beside her, pouring himself over her, trying to cover every inch of her with his shadow and his body, hands loosening her ability to think clearly and speak coherently and left her retreating to snarky remarks and denials of him that were half-hearted in nature. Over the phone, a large void of space pushing them apart, it was easier to admit these secrets to him, her chest constricted as she hummed in affirmation.
"Yes. I do. I wish you were here right now with me," Emilia confirmed, wondering if the phone might melt against her face from how quickly she felt the embers of a blush burst to life after being dead for so long over the last few days, save for the times when she thought about Sirius or when Mrs. Halabi waggled her brows at Emilia at the mere mention of his name.
"Really?" He was breathless, and it made that odd knotting of her guts grip at her at the sound.
"Of course. Then I could put those supposed cooking skills to the test," Emilia hastily said, diverting the topic all too quickly. With the way Sirius managed to make her fizzle, she didn't know how she managed to eat at all, let alone what would happen if he set a plate down in front of her.
"I'll hold you to that. I would make you the best dinner of your life, I swear. Euphemia taught me all that I knew."
"The student has become the master."
"Master Sirius, they call me," he laughed and it rang on behind her ribs, echoing for a time past infinity.
"Who's they?"
"My subordinates, obviously."
Her face screwed tightly together. "Am I one of them?"
"Well, you don't call me Master Sirius for starters. If you were one of my subordinates, you'd be the worst one," he reminded her and she blanched at the possibility; it was like when the house elves sequestered in the kitchens peered up at her with their large eyes and refused to call her anything less of Miss Emilia in their soft, pitched voices, entreating her to follow and ply her with enough food to make her belly explode.
Emilia failed in quashing the gentle laugh building within her at the memory, perking up and giving a soft gasp, trying her best to imitate the house elves, a delicate edge to her voice as she sweetened it and hoping she wasn't as terrible at impressions as Sirius was whenever he tried to mimic her. "Oh, Master Sirius, please . I beg you to teach me all that you know."
The choked noise that filtered out through the phone was definitely not one of amusement and Emilia frowned at hearing Sirius fall into a wheezed fit, a cough escaping him before he attempted to recollect himself from whatever it was that had him be so flustered. She wasn't that bad, was she? He made impressions of her all the time, and had done a worse job of it than she ever had. "Fucking hell."
The way he spoke was strained, scratched out through his lips and her mouth tugged ever downwards at the reaction. "What?"
"Nothing. No, it's - nothing, nevermind. Forget it," Sirius responded quickly but it definitely did not seem like nothing. Emilia slumped back into the chair, trying to not sulk over the fact her first and only time of ever trying to do what he had done countless times before had not been met with a laugh. How unfair. A noise that might have been a threadbare groan left Sirius and, for some reason, it made Emilia's face feel even warmer. "Just please never ever say that ever again. Especially like that."
"Why? Did I sound like Winry?"
"And that's that dead. Last thing I need is Winry on my mind," Sirius grumbled, more so to himself than to Emilia. Perhaps he did not realise just how much she was able to hear. "Alright. I'll stop asking to visit you. Doesn't mean I don't want to, but I'll stop."
It didn't make her feel any better.
"Okay," Emilia said, chewing on her tongue for a moment before it loosened itself from her unkindness. "I do wish that you could, you know that right? I do want to see you."
"Yeah, I - " Whatever it was that Sirius was about to say after was suddenly cut off and a loud banging noise followed by a shouting that was muffled as Sirius strung a few curses together and pulled the phone away to yell back at whoever was interrupting him. "Oh, piss off, James! Don't you have something better to do like wank into a sock?"
Emilia pulled a face, nose scrunching up at his exclamation. "That's a delightful picture I need in my head."
"Pretend you didn't hear that," Sirius said hastily, grumbling as he brought the receiver close to his mouth once more, a frustrated sigh leaving him. "That was James. Dinner's on the table."
Emilia's heart dropped, plummeting to the depths of her chest as even when she knew that there would eventually be an end to hearing Sirius' voice, it still did not mean she was glad to meet it. On her end, Emilia was sure that Mrs. Halabi was close to kicking down the front door and grabbing her by the scruff of the neck to drag her over to sit her down on the sofa or get started on the much needed alterations she was unable to wait for that she had promised Emilia. The woman had gone four months without seeing Emilia and was trying to make up for that fact.
And yet, Emilia found herself not wanting to go, to be without Sirius' voice even if that was all that could be given to her. She truly was becoming so selfish. "You should go."
"But I want to talk with you for longer," Sirius whined and hearing him admit what she failed to do made her heart crawl back to its rightful place once more, a small smile spilling across her lips at his admission.
"You can call me tomorrow if you'd like," she offered, hoping that he would accept.
She felt bad for doubting him, Sirius not giving her a chance to finish the last syllable before he jumped in. "When?"
"I don't know, lunch time? I'll be back by then and will have time to talk more at that time."
"Promise?" It all but broke her heart to hear him ask so delicately, and Emilia doubted whether it truly was Sirius on the other side of the phone, truly him talking to her as such in a manner that was so fragile she couldn't even envision it leaving his lips. And Emilia did not want to start thinking about Sirius' lips in particular.
"Promise."
"Okay," he said, like he was dismal over the prospect of having to wait for an entire day before being able to talk to her once more. A sigh filtered out through his end, pouring into her ear and it sounded burdened by something Emilia was not allowed to understand, would never fully fathom the weight of. "I miss you."
Just as he had with his letters, Sirius continued to speak it into existence, like he was trying to convince her of the fact.
"I miss you too," Emilia replied easily, ignoring how gut-wrenching it was to admit it because now that she had, it became even more difficult to ignore. She missed him - she missed every single part of Sirius that there was to exist and there was nothing else in this world that she could use to fill the hole in her heart that he had taken half of with him when they departed from King's Cross.
"How much?" Sirius pressed. It was an impossible question posed to her as even Emilia remained ignorant to the depths that it affected her.
"Is there a limit?"
"You're breaking my heart, Lemon," Sirius moaned, worn and threadbare by her confession and it made her grin. If there ever was a downside to speaking with Sirius over the telephone, it would be the fact that she wasn't there to witness whatever expression graced him, though knew that was the exact thing that lay behind her inability to speak forth such truths to his face when it was in front of her.
"Good. It's no less than you deserve," Emilia teased and tried not to feel too happy over the fact he felt even a fraction of the pain that afflicted her in his absence. The evening was drawing in and Emilia knew that they would be caught in an endless cycle of farewells if neither of them took that reluctant step to sever the connection that tied them together. It fell to her, as much as Emilia did not want it to. "I'm going to hang up now. You should too."
"Alright." Sirius said like it was the last thing he wanted to ever hear her lips. "I… I miss you."
"You've said that a million times already." And hopefully, a million times more. "Miss you too. Talk later?"
"Okay." He sounded far from the word.
"Bye Sirius," Emilia said and dread was abundant within her. He was right about the phone - it only made her want to see him even more. "We'll talk more tomorrow."
"Talk to you - " Sirius never got to finish his sentence as Emilia listened to the sound of James bellowing at Sirius to haul ass to the dinner table or else he was going to follow through on his promise of making the telephone explode, yanking at it in Sirius' grip and Emilia had to clamp a hand over her mouth to stop the laugh. "For fuck's sake, James! I'm going to smother you to death in your sleep with your own fucking cum sock if you don't - !"
The line went dead before she was able to hear whatever it was Sirius was going to say. It was silent again. Dial tone. She held onto the phone even when she knew that there would be no sudden reappearance of Sirius. Only nothingness spoke out to her.
The phone clattered back onto the handset when Emilia set it down, incapable of moving from where she sat. The world still moved even if Sirius wasn't there with her. She wished it were not so.
yall know that scene in the hercules movie with the muses singing "when you gonna own up that you got, got, got it BAD" ? ya that's how we gon be for the next (checks notes) bagazillion chapters lol jk its not that many... or is it? teehee i wont tell!
n e wayz love u all ! thank u endlessly for all the support ur all the beez kneez !
song of choice while writing: labyrinth by taylor swift
Thanks for reading!