The Grim ➸ R. Weasley

For Us

  
   
Fred Weasley had been right.

That night, after Jamie left the party feeling a strange emptiness in himself, Ron's bedside curtain was sliced to pieces, Sirius Black had loomed over him with a glinting twelve inch knife, prepared to kill him, but Ron had woken and screamed for his life. Sirius Black had fled, escaping capture once more.

Jamie hated to admit it, but Fred Weasley was right. Sirius Black did try to go after Ron, he failed this once, but would he fail again? If he can escape Azkaban and Dementors and school security without anyone seeing anything, there was a good chance that the second time they crossed paths, Ron would not be so lucky.

It made Jamie's feelings go all around. On one hand, he had always been so lonely, forcing people away because he was 'the grim', he thought he had to because he brought darkness and everybody he loved died. But recently things had turned around, he made friends, people actually liked him — but now one of his closest friends almost died because of him. Maybe the old bat was right, maybe he is the Grim.

Maybe everyone he got close with was meant to end with a cruel fate, everyone he loved just damned because of his selfishness. Maybe if he just pretended to love his father the man would perish as well.

The next day Jamie had to force himself to crawl out of bed. It wasn't Draco's complaining that fueled him, it was anger. His father had tried to kill Ron and he escaped, he slipped right through everyone's fingers again. He tried to hurt one of his friends and he's out there living as if nothing happened, well, Jamie drew the line there. He didn't care if his father came after him, but he wasn't about to let the man go after the people he cares about.

He decided he would cruise the halls, look for any clue his father might have left to tell where he got in or how he left. Security had started to get tighter, Professor Flitwick was trying to teach the front doors to recognize a large picture of Sirius Black — which was getting somewhere because the second they saw Jamie they slammed shut and knocked the short teacher off his stool and onto his arse; filch was boarding up everything he could, mouse holes, to tiny cracks, he sneered at Jamie when he passed him for the third time within an hour.

"What are you doing, boy? Looking for trouble?"

"I just might be." Jamie said, not waiting for the man to answer.

He tried interviewing some of the painting, surprised when he found out at least half of them didn't speak English, they spoke their painters native tongue. The ones who did understand him said they saw no man who fit Sirius Blacks description.

When he turned the corner he froze, Ron was swarmed by a handful of younger students, he seemed to be enjoying himself and all the attention that was suddenly sprung on him. "He looked at me. . . I just knew I was done for. His knife, it was at least twelve inches. . ."

That made Jamie's stomach drop. He thought back to Fred's question.

Could you live knowing it was your fault?

No. No, he really couldn't. That's why when Ron made eye contact and tried to wave him over, Jamie turned and left. He didn't look back.
     
  
    
      
For the rest of the week Jamie played that game with the Gryffindor trio. It was too dangerous to be seen around them, Jamie didn't even trust himself to be around Draco in the open. He sunk back into himself, the way he used to be, avoiding everyone at all costs.

If his dad learned how much he cared for his friends the man would not think twice about hurting them to get to him. Jamie would physically not be able to handle it.

When the weekend rolled around he was allowed to forget about everything. School, his dad, everything. Saturday, the date for yet another Hogsmeade trip.