jemina // sirius black

thirty-three

chapter thirty-three

"Minnow?"

I jolted awake, immediately sitting up and looking around my dark room for the source of that voice. Before my eyes even adjusted to the dark, I knew my search was useless. 

I hated that dream, almost more than any other recurring memory-dreams I had. I hadn't been back to Godric's Hollow in nearly 12 years for a reason. The last thing I wanted was to see that house ever again. I couldn't even handle going to the graveyard to see them. The last time I had, I had apparated directly to their headstones and stood there, crying, for half an hour before I apparated away. That was on James and I's 30th birthday. And before that, it had been seven years since I had been. 

The fact of the matter was that I hated Godric's Hollow. I hated that place. I hated being there. I couldn't handle being there, knowing that was where they died. I couldn't do it. 

So dreaming of walking the streets of the place that had been our home, walking through the ruins of their home... I hated it. 

But... Usually, I woke up after Remus carried me out of the house. After we realized I was bleeding badly, and that my baby, Lilian, was likely in danger. The dream usually ended with me staring over Remus' shoulder at the barely hanging door as he carried me away from the house. Usually, it ended with the doorway slowly fading into nothing, and then I'd wake up. 

This time, instead of Remus asking if I was even awake, I heard a specific voice say "Minnow." 

I heard James' voice. 

For the first time in 13 years, I heard his voice. It wasn't even distorted like voices are in dreams, it was his voice. It wasn't the same as hearing his voice in my dreams usually was. Like how my dreams of us in our childhood was. It was distinct and clear. In my dreams, it was clearly James' voice, but it was airier and... echoey. Like we were sitting in an empty theatre. His voice would echo off of the walls and sound cloudy.

That time it was piercing. It was like he was speaking to me, outside of the dream. Like he was sitting on the bed beside me, gently trying to wake me up.

There was something ominous and scary about it. About hearing it like that, like he was actually trying to wake me up. 

For a moment, I listened to the silence in the house.

It took a moment for me to realize that Sirius was sleeping next to me. I glanced at where I knew the clock was on the wall and sighed as I shook my head. It was too dark to read it, obviously. I took another moment to just sit there, considering whether I should try to fall back asleep or get up. After listening to Sirius' steady breaths, I realized there was no way I was falling back asleep. 

I wanted to see his face too much.

So, very quietly, I slid my legs out from under the blankets and off of my bed. The floor, a dark brown hardwood, was extremely cold. After using my foot to look around for my slippers, I realized that they were likely still in the bathroom or by the dresser and frowned. 

I didn't have any rugs in my bedroom, a decision I had regretted every day since making it. The wood was always very cold and was always very unsettling early in the morning. 

As I finally put my weight on my feet, flattening them against the freezing wood, I bit my tongue. I hated, more than anything, when my feet were cold. It was always the most uncomfortable feeling and usually made the rest of me feel colder. I didn't like being cold much. I did when I was young, but the cold bothered my joints. 

I know that makes me sound old, but I chose to blame my autoimmune disorder, not my age.

If Sirius hadn't been sound asleep, I'm sure he would've woken up to me scampering across our bedroom, the tip of my wand just barely lit, searching for my slippers. He would also see my cursing quietly at the fact that they weren't anywhere to be found.