The Godmother

32. questions

The smoke of burnt tobacco lingered in the air, clinging to the furniture and stanching up the apartment. There was nothing else to do but smoke. Smoke away fears and troubles and problems until they all unravelled and solved themselves.

Elizabeth watched Sirius. He was like a statue, ancient and beautiful. He'd seen a whole different world. He'd seen the physical embodiment of pain. Of torture. He was cursed from the beginning by the pain of being born into a family by which tarnished his name. No redemption. No saviour. He was stuck in a world where it didn't matter what he did. The shadow of his last name would follow him around in the day and night.

It was a shame, how beautiful he was. He was trapped inside the apartment like a fly in a jar. Only, if he left, he'd be maimed. Cut down to the very fibre of his being, and then, they'd destroy that, too.

How could she have someone so beautiful all to herself? He was like the sun, keeping her from falling into an eternal night. Into an eternal sigh.

The smoke framed around him making the beauty in his eyes even more sincere. He was innocent. Whole. Yet an accused man due to the tidings of his last name. Sirius Black. What would his name be if he were born into a different life?

She watched the cars go past. Flashes of life blinked between the gaps in time where she didn't exist anymore.

There was an order meeting. New location. The Tonks' residence.

Outside the cottage, was surrounded by forest and trees. Gardens topped with Geraniums and Dahlia's dotted the green bushes outside the house. It was two stories, painted white with brown trims. There was a river that ran beside the house, almost as green as the garden.

Everything smelt like fresh rain and pine. There was more vibrant green than what her eyes could account for. Hundred-year-old pine trees spiking up into the air like they were trying to touch the clouds. A gravel driveway with a baby blue chevy sitting by the house. Windows covered inside by lace curtains. Tiled roof. Vibrant reds and yellows bursting from the garden beneath the windows of the first floor of the home.

Elizabeth watched the door open and Tonks' head emerge from the door.

"Come on, you're late!", she called to Sirius and Elizabeth.

They both jumped forward toward the door and entered in sync.

Inside, the house was unequivocally clean and tidy. Neat frames of Tonks as a child and her parents hung from the walls. There was no dust. Windows were open and let the fresh air in and a cool breeze that made the hairs on Elizabeth's skin rise.

Tonks led Elizabeth and Sirius through to a large sitting room. The roof was tall. Walls white. Books, lamps and a muggle tv. There were chairs and couches spread around the room; someone had obviously been tampering with an extension charm as some of the couches were seating 5-6 people.

Dumbledore stood in front of the television. He looked withered. Tired.

Elizabeth and Sirius walked into the room of quietly chatting people and sat down on an empty loveseat. There was chatter around. Small-talk while the group waited for the meeting to begin. Tonks sat down beside Elizabeth on the seat.

Elizabeth looked around the room. There were a few new people. Some young, some old. A boy who couldn't have been a day over 20, athletic in build and handsome, standing by the door in conversation with Emmeline. A couple in their 40s. Happy. Smiling. Smiling. Elizabeth forgot what that felt like. The genuine uplifting way ones lips curled in happiness. What was that? Who was she?

The woman of the couple had neat black hair, in the early stages of withering features. Wrinkles lining her eyes and mouth. Short nose. High cheekbones. The man standing beside her was the same. Combed back hair, lean build. Happy. Happy. Happy.