One Step Ahead part I | Sirius Black

Chapter 22

{{really weird thought that popped into my head—super rich kids by Frank ocean 100% has Slytherin vibes. Let me know the songs that remind you of houses/characters!!!}}

Sirius winces when he wakes up, cursing the bright light surrounding him.

His head is pounding like mad, causing him to quickly shut his eyes and grumble quietly to himself. He hated the hospital wing.

Hospital wing.

He sits bolt upright, eyes widening as he realizes what exactly happened the night before. He throws the blankets covering his body and goes to leap to his feet, when a very odd picture stops him short.

Gwenyth Whitlock is lounging in the bed next to his with an acid pop in her mouth, her sock covered feet propped up on a couple of extra pillows as she leans back and relaxes, flipping through one of her awful magazines. She glances up, blinking silently as their eyes finally meet. A brilliant grin suddenly takes over her face and Sirius releases the breath he didn't realize he was holding.

"Bonjour, snuffles."

His heart does an awkward flip in his chest and he feels himself smiling for the first time in a week as he asks, "What?"

"Sorry, forgot you hit your head. It means good morning," She teases, her pale eyes turning back to the magazine in her hands. He watches her silently for a few moments, confused by her ability to just slip back into the comfortable rapport they have. Or had. He wasn't exactly sure.

Sirius finds his footing however when he grumbles, "You're an—"

"Idiot? Yes, I've been told." Her tone is nonplussed, her attitude even more so.

It's quiet for a few more agonizing moments. He blames the concussion when he asks irritably, "Where's your boyfriend?"

The Veela just smiles and keeps her eyes trained on the words in front of her as she replies, "Would you rather he sit with you?"

Sirius rolls his eyes and scoots back into his bed, pulling the covers up once more, unable to keep up with her sassy mood. He wonders briefly if he can escape this sodding place soon. As if she knows what he's thinking, Gwen suddenly says,

"Madam Pomfrey said if you try to leave in the next 24 hours that she'll make you clean bed pans without magic."

"Quit doing that," He grunts, his skin prickling when her unnerving eyes find his again. She quirks a brow, and Sirius suddenly wants to ask how she can make things so simple and so complicated at the same time.

They just look at each other for a few moments, both of them assessing the other. Gwen' eyes flicker down to where he's bandaged around his waist. Guilt makes her smile fade and her stomach churn.

"I'm sorry," She says quietly. "This is my fault."

He frowns at the look on her face, used to seeing her look so passive. He didn't like the way her eyes grew sad. Guilty. She looked guilty.

"It's fine," He says before he can stop himself. Her eyes leave his bandage and she looks at him curiously. Sirius grins slightly and mutters, "Girls love scars anyway."

If he could bottle up and keep the laugh that escapes her forever he would. His grin grows as she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a familiar green treat. He takes it and pops it into his mouth, mumbling around it,

"Why were you out on the grounds at night?"

Gwen pauses, weighing her words carefully before admitting, "Well, I was looking for a werewolf. And I found one."

Sirius looks at her sternly, feeling instantly protective of Remus. He couldn't believe that Gwen would be nosy like that. And he was right, she wasn't, and his heart feels less heavy as soon as she explains,

"Snape told Lily he was going to spy on you guys. So I said I'd check it out and then we could tell him I saw nothing."

Sirius hesitates, pulling the acid pop out of his mouth. He looks at it to avoid her eyes that see right through him when he asks, "and?"

"I saw nothing."

The simplicity and nonchalance of her tone makes a laugh erupt before he can stop it. He realizes then and there, he can confess that he misses his friendship with the girl. And she was right, his mood swings were out of control, a symptom of his frustration with things beyond her control. Gwen grins at him, relief flooding her being at the sight of him laughing and talking and...just being okay. He looked terrible when they'd gotten him to the hospital wing hours ago.

She watches out of the corner of her eye as he winces and settles back into his pillows, covering his eyes with his arm. It was rather bright. The Veela looks around, frowning and wishing she could do something more for the boy.

She slowly begins to sit up and untangle herself from the bed so as not to disturb him. She quietly folds up her magazine, her feet just about to touch the floor,

"Où pensez-vous aller?"
[where do you think you're going?]

Gwen smiles to herself before looking back over her shoulder. He's moved his arm and opened his eyes, the smokey grey irises making her stomach feel funny. She climbs back into the bed and lays on her side so she's facing him, mumbling quietly,

"J'ai toujours su que tu étais un chien."
[I always knew you were a dog]

Sirius chuckles, feeling uncomfortably interested in the way she sounds while speaking French. Gwen quirks a brow, suddenly curious.

"Why do you speak French?" She wonders, brushing back the strands of her hair that threaten to block the view of him as he speaks. His smile is tight now, on edge. He's probably irritated that she's asked, but she's answered all of his questions. It's his turn.

He sighs gustily, murmuring, "My family thinks they are royalty. Part of the sacred 28. Bloody rubbish if you ask me, but I had to learn French and how to dance and which fork I should use to eat. Our family motto is Toujours Pur. There's no such thing as real pure blood families anymore though. We just don't add the people that aren't pur to the tree I guess."

Gwen nods along as he speaks, smiling faintly when he turns on his side to face her. She wants to tell him that his family sounds awful, but she doesn't want to make him sad or embarrassed or hurt. Not after she saw scars on his abdomen that she guessed weren't from their werewolf friend.

"Why do you speak French?" He asks teasingly, his eyes unconsciously tracing the way her smile lines deepen and her gapped teeth barely show when she laughs.

"We used to split our time, half in London and half in France. I live in France now though, couldn't afford both," She pauses, glancing away from him as she admits. "I still like the beach. Cant go in the water at all...but I like to stand where the tide won't reach. It's quiet and peaceful. London is always busy."

"What's it like?" He wonders quietly, trying to picture Gwen on the beach building sand castles. Swimming. He wonders if she ever wishes she could go swimming.

The smile that settles on her face makes his throat run dry. She's beautiful. He can admit that, just not out loud. And it's not her pearly hair or her unnerving eyes. It's her demeanor.

"The cottage? It's small. But I have a fenced in yard, just a little patch of grass and dirt. There's a path down to the beach. Muggles can't see it, my mum put up too many protection charms and glamours. But there's a little village that I ride my bike too."

She grins and adds mischievously, "Cute muggle boys too."

Sirius scoffs and rolls his eyes, grabbing the pillow from under his head and tossing it at her while she just laughs.

He missed her. And she missed him.