The Godmother

24. back to the end of the world

There was nothing peaceful about living in the apartment above London. There were many things that made it unbearable. The constant tooting from the road downstairs. The fact that they were living in secret; in a complete and total, utterly desperate lie.

Elizabeth opened her eyes. Her consciousness grew wings and the bumbling engines downstairs flooded noisily into her head. Her hands were softly coiled around a thin waffle blanket. She opened her eyes. All the curtains were closed but one- where Sirius sat perched, a cigarette hanging from his mouth.

He stared down at the street. Envious. There was no curiosity. No boyhood in the way he watched the people. Because they were living life. He knew that. He knew that they were doing something that he wasn't; getting on with the show and sticking it through to the end. He was saturated in volumes of desire to be down there with those people. Moving. Breathing. Being.

Elizabeth shifted and sat up in bed. How could she have fallen in love with such a beautiful creature? The kind that made you want them to hang around during winter when there was nothing else as angelic to look at and then again in the summer to cool you down from the blazing heat.

She watched his golden eyes dart up and down the street, follow cars and people and then take a puff from his cigarette then look up at the sky and the clouds and figure out which shapes made what?

Elizabeth knew that she was in love with Sirius. She'd known it in her gut after hanging around with him and James for the first few times in Hogwarts. Then, when they came back from summer holidays between their fourth and fifth year, she knew it again. It wasn't until their sixth year that Sirius asked her out, because they both knew that James was not going to be overcome with joy by his best friend dating his sister.

They'd obviously played around beforehand. Flirted in class. Did homework together. Made eye contact during dinner that was impenetrable.

But how had he fallen for her as deeply as she did for him? She was so... ordinary? With giant, button-like brown eyes and small lips and a heart-shaped face- how did he love her as she did for him?

She was looking at him and noticed her vision blur and glaze slightly. His head turned and topaz-coloured eyes hit her sharply. Like a knife. He extinguished the cigarette in an instant and stood up, walking over to the bed and sitting right beside where she lay.

Her fingers had twisted themselves around her lips. He took her wrists softly and leaned down to kiss the back of her hands.

"What's wrong?", he asked. His voice was softer than cream.

"N- Nothing... I", she faltered, her voice quiet and sore. She looked up at him. His eyes scanned over her, searching for the epicenter of her tears, trying to figure out where the hurt was coming from so that he could eliminate it.

Elizabeth stared. How did he care so much? How had they been together for so long?

"Tell me", he whispered. He sunk himself into the bed, lifting the covers up so that he could drift in with Elizabeth. He laid close to her so that they were touching. She felt his feet wrap between hers and his hands smoothed up her hips, past her shoulders and cradled her jaw. It was intoxicating. It was like a drug. He was a drug.

"I-... why do you love me?", she managed to whisper, staring up at him. He frowned in shock for a few moments before his face smoothed out and his thumb began to stroke her cheek. She leaned into his touch- his touch unlike any other.

"Where is this coming from?", he asked. Elizabeth felt the eternal sigh within her gasp.

"Nothing... I... I don't know...", she said, fumbling around to find the words.