Thicker than Water (Marauders Era)

9 March, 1980 - Better

Lavinia tried not to think too much about that night she had spent crying on the floor of Sirius's room. She tried not to think too much about the day that had preceded it either. Both were painful. It wasn't just the spiral she'd gone stumbling towards or the awful mistake that she'd almost made. No, it was the fear in Sirius's voice, in his eyes, the way he'd held her like he was afraid that if he let go, she might shatter. The way she thought he might have been right about that last bit.

She had thought, stupidly, she now knew, that she could hold it in, that she could keep her stress and worry and fear to herself. That it wouldn't be too much. That it wouldn't explode. But it had. Like it always did.

She knew Sirius saw it now, knew by the way he kept a closer eye on her and seemed to be at her side more often. He waited up for her when she came back from her night shift, despite the late hour, and when she woke up for work, he woke up with her. He had started making her breakfast, handing it to her that first day with raised eyebrows as though daring her to refuse. She hadn't.

And though she felt guilty, though she hated to make him worry, she couldn't deny that it was nice. Nice to be reminded just how much he cared. Nice to remember that someone was looking out for her even when she wasn't. And she knew she hadn't been these past months. She knew she'd been walking a fine line, pushing off the inevitable until it was so much worse than it had to be.

The stress had begun building faster than she had thought possible in those early months of the new year. It wasn't that this was new and it wasn't like the nightmares had come out of nowhere but... but they'd gotten so much worse as she was left alone more often. So much worse when she was the only living, breathing thing in the house and there was no one to run to when she jerked from a sleep with cold fear in her veins.

And that was another problem. She had realized at some point that she had wanted, desperately wanted to run to someone. And she should have. She knew she should have. But when Remus and Sirius came home with their faces so tired and their eyes so dull, she hadn't been able to bring herself to add her own problems to what they were already facing. So she'd stayed silent and kept her mouth shut and let it build and build until it broke. Until it wasn't just the strain of living during wartime. Until it wasn't just a bad day at work. Until it wasn't just one conversation or one night she'd spent trying to comfort Sirius, trying to ease his stress, trying to convince him that his friends would be okay because they could take care of themselves. Even when she herself didn't believe a word out of her own mouth.

And that day...

She had somehow forgotten that it was her friends and family on the other side of this. Or maybe forgotten was the wrong word, because it had never slipped her mind that it was true but... but she had forgotten what it meant. And it had come crashing down on her with a force and fury she hadn't anticipated.

Because it hadn't just been a concept or a theory or the idea of her friends and family. It had been William. It had been her little brother. And seeing him... all the guilt of leaving had returned mixed with this new guilt, this fear of what he must think of her. And this hollow shame and grief for the part of his life she had missed.

He had grown and not just physically, though he was undeniably taller than the last time she'd seen him. And he was an adult. She had missed his seventeenth birthday. She had missed those last precious years of his youth and standing in front of her hadn't been the little boy she remembered, but an adult. A soldier with the face of her brother.

And she hadn't known how to reconcile that, not when her wand had been pointing at him. Not when she'd attacked him. It had been years - years - since she'd sent any sort of attack at anyone. And yet it had been so easy.