Thicker than Water (Marauders Era) PART II

4 August, 1995 - Leaving (II)

Sirius was sulking when he received Dumbledore's message. He'd been sulking a lot lately, actually and wasn't at all in the mood to admit it. But if he was honest, he knew he was being ridiculous. Or at least, a bit over dramatic.

She had had to leave. He told himself so over and over again. She had had to leave. Because she was right. She had a life outside this house. She had friends and a job and a life. And the subtext she hadn't needed to say was that he wasn't a part of it.

It had been a punch to the stomach, really, because ever since they'd come to this house, ever since she'd given him a dressing down for living in the past, he'd been so sure he was the one who needed to make the choice. That he was the reason they weren't... well he didn't know what they would be, but he had been sure that he was the reason they were staying as just friends.

But he wasn't. And he knew he was an idiot to have ever thought he was. To have ever taken her love for granted. To have ever assumed that she would be waiting for him.

He had made that mistake once before. He had thought, and foolishly, he knew, that once he had escaped Azkaban, once he had killed Pettigrew, once he had found her again, that she would be waiting. The same girl he'd known. The girl he had loved. The girl who had promised him forever.

But it had become very clear very quickly that she had not waited. And Sirius hadn't blamed her. Because of course she hadn't waited. It had been twelve years and just because it didn't feel like so terribly long to him, didn't mean it hadn't been ages for her. And she had moved on. As she should have. She didn't have to wait and he couldn't expect her to because it wasn't remotely fair of him. Because she had a life. And for twelve years he hadn't been a part of it.

He had thought he'd learned that lesson. Had thought he had moved past that. Made peace with it. But apparently not. Because here he was again, having thought that just because he was back and not running all over hte country and the world, that he could just suddenly become a part of her life again. Having thought she was just waiting for him to decide, for him to take the next step. Just... waiting for him. But while he had been hesitating... well apparently she had been too. Because she had left.

And it was ridiculous of him to blame her because he knew she was right and he had no claim to monopolizing her time or her life. But that didn't stop it from hurting. A lot.

What was worse, in some ways, was that since she had left, the house had gotten brighter, warmer. There was chatter in the halls and dinners were upbeat and cozy affairs. The cleaning was still a nightmare, obviously, but it was going faster. So her absence... it wasn't a physical, palpable thing like he'd expected it to be. It was quiet and almost entirely isolated in his head. Which meant that no one else noticed. No one else cared. No one else missed her.

If he was honest, Sirius knew that it hurt more than it should have. That he was sulking more than he should have. Because he should have been trying. He should have been making an effort to move on and make the best of what he had so that if - when - she came back, he wouldn't hesitate anymore. He would have an answer. And regardless of what that answer was, he would be able to say he'd been trying. He'd made progress. He'd movedon. But he wasn't. He was slipping further back, giving into that darkness and something like rage that had brewed in those long months and years in Azkaban. And he couldn't seem to stop himself. Because this felt like a prison too. Because he couldn't leave these walls the portraits and memories were as good as dementors. Because in the entire time he'd known and loved Lavinia, he had never once thought that she would be the one to leave him.

He had once thought she would never start anything in the first place, but once she had... somehow it had never occurred to him that she could or would walk away. She had been a constant, a steady force in his life that had never wavered. That he had never had cause to question. Because it had been he who had left that day. Because she simply didn't leave.