Thicker than Water (Marauders Era)

3 November, 1978 - Perfect

Sirius froze. Not that he'd been exactly active a moment ago, but now he rather felt like his blood might have stopped flowing. He'd definitely stopped breathing, that was for sure.

I was hoping we could talk. How many times had he tried to get himself to say those exact words to her, to actually be honest instead of... well it wasn't lying. But it wasn't honesty either. He'd been avoiding having this conversation in case he accidentally pressed her before she was ready. In case he messed something up.

And now here she was, standing in front of him with her face forcibly still and her fingers pulling on the ends of her sleeves in her familiar nervous gesture. Sirius didn't know what to say or what to think. Partly because he didn't know what she planned on saying. Was she going to tell him to back off? He hadn't been exactly shy with her lately, but she'd also given no indication that she hadn't liked the little gestures he'd offered.

She'd offered them right back, actually. Ever since the graduation party at the Potter house, he and Lavinia had been... something. He didn't know what to call it and the one time he'd had the courage to ask, she simply hadn't answered. And then of course she'd gotten that first letter from Regulus and everyone had gotten rather distracted.

He couldn't blame her for that, though. He didn't know exactly what she had felt for Regulus or what she currently felt. He knew what that stupid picture on the mantle looked like and every time he saw it he felt the sting of jealousy. But he'd put it up there for her and he wasn't going to take it down because what he'd told her when he'd first framed it was true: they needed more of Lavinia in this house. This was her home too.

If he was honest, he both loved and hated that picture. He loved it because Lavinia looked so happy in it. She looked at ease and content and so many things he so rarely saw in her. And he hated it because it reminded him why she always hesitated. Why she always stepped back or looked away. And it reminded him of his brother. His family. He knew Lavinia wouldn't have approved, knew she would have had him offer Regulus a second chance, but he didn't care. His biological mother and father and brother weren't his family. Not anymore. And though where Regulus was concerned, it was a bit more complicated, the fact remained that Regulus had chosen his path. And Sirius wanted nothing to do with it. It was better to just disown them all. So he had. And he stood by that.

He'd chosen his family and he wouldn't go back for anything. He'd chosen his parents in Mr. and Mrs. Potter who had offered him love and kindness and a place to call home when his own parents couldn't have cared less. He'd chosen a brother in James, who would always have his back. Who was never going away.

He'd never told Lavinia any of this. He didn't mention it on the rare occasions when Regulus came into their conversations. He knew it was just begging for an argument and it wasn't one he wanted to have. He knew also that Lavinia was careful about her mentions of his brother, knew that the few times his name slipped out of her thoughts and onto her tongue it was the result of a frankly overcrowded head so he didn't mention anything then either.

Just like he hadn't mentioned anything when she'd started holding his hand out of the blue. It had been both wonderful and painful, really. On the one hand, he would take any little touch he could get. When her fingers wrapped in his, it felt like warmth and contentment and belonging. It felt like finally.

But it also came with the knowledge that it wasn't formal or official and no promises had been made and when she dropped his hand, it hurt more than if she'd never held it to begin with. He knew she didn't mean to lead him on, knew that her mixed signals weren't her being malicious or playing with him but rather reflections of her own indecision and confusion. Her own fear.

So he'd made no secret of his feelings for her, though he hadn't ever said them aloud either. And he'd waited for her to come to him. Waited for her to be ready.