The House of Hawke has been called the traitorous, filthy and scum house the entire time that name was known to the living.
Past or future, one would accompany it with the adjective "Horrifying".
It was a matter of grief for the youngest daughter...
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Hogwarts, Scotland Highlands, 1978 May 17th, Panic in the castle
Communication is the key. Which is exactly what we're not doing.
Something is wrong with Sirius and something is wrong with me. I'm afraid of feeling something towards this man and Sirius is obviously troubled by a problem of his own, which I indeed do not know of.
We use each other to let go of crises of our own, hook up during intervals, and run to the empty dorms whenever we get spare time. Study and have sex and study again.
The unhealthiness of this thing is beyond the limits of my understanding. The 'whys' are long forgotten, the 'why nots' have dug their grave in the cemetery of our hearts.
There is sunshine pouring out of his smiles when he looks at me and there are constellations engraved in the shine of his irises, glinting like the new prayer I'd never forget to chant before I sleep.
I have found such bliss and comfort in my own sorrow and solace that the idea of letting someone in scares me more than it should. And isn't that incredibly sad? That the grief bolstered me when the love I received never could? That the melancholy inside my rotten heart held my hand while I dangled on the edge of the cliff when the very human who made me exist never could?
Sometimes I realise and accept that this is all my mother's fault. That all that I am and all that I never could be is because she decided to ruin my innocence, my desire to be loved and love someone. She made me afraid for life.
Other times, all I need is to run in her arms and call them home. The anger inside of me is so unreasonably massive that I would go into hysterics the moment I started talking to her, but the misery is even greater, that she'd cradle me once and I'd be her little girl for as long as she'd like me to be.
Every identity that I make my own and every version of myself I let go of, they all somehow end up being 'Essex Hawke's daughter'. Sometimes, during my most miserable moments, I believe Ella is envious of me. That she despises that I am the one who gets to be called that woman's daughter when both of us share her blood.
But I was the one who she was after. I was the one whom she saw during her psychosis. I was the one who watched her corpse burn. Who watched her scream as she begged me to untie the ropes that were binding her to the pole.
I would not envy myself if I was her.
"THE EXAM STARTS NOW!"
I pick my pen up and scribble down everything that I know. Unsurprisingly, I know all the answers. Defence against Dark Arts is by far my favourite subject and I wouldn't be confused if I do top in it.
Lily would top, too. She's anxious for no reason and we all know it. All support it, too. It's okay. Being fearful is okay. It's okay when your entire life is defined by it.
Feeling wretched by everything, feeling numb and emotionally unavailable, I drop my quill and stare blankly at my parchment.
Sometimes I want to blame my mother for all that I inherited from her. But at the same time, I'm unconsciously aware that it's also me. I'm also the one to accuse. I've done a lot of bad things in my life. Ever since I was a toddler, I lost my childhood.
But I know, that no matter what would happen. No matter how many times I'd return home battered and bruised, my mother would patiently wipe the mud off my face. My mother would smile and take my hands in hers.
I know, somehow after all that has happened, that no matter what happened among us behind the walls of our house, the yelling and the screaming and the psychotic anger - she will always have the door open when it comes to me.
The vagueness was perplexing. How you could detest the woman whose womb you came out of that much and yet, she's the one person you know would let you come back home to her.
I shut my eyes as tight as I can and rub my temples. Jotting down all that I know, I finish my exam before everyone else.
Sirius does it next. When he comes out of the classroom, he's surprised to find me there waiting for him.
"I'm sorry," I tell him.
"What?" He frowns.
"I ran away that day." I softly smile. "I don't want to do it again. If there can't be feelings involved, doesn't mean we're not friends."
Sirius gulps and nods, I squeeze his hand and bring him into a hug. "What's troubling you?"
"I thought you ran that day because you still have feelings for Moony. You were with him after you left."
He must have followed me. I don't blame him. "He was there by chance. I wasn't feeling very fine that moment so he hugged me."
"What's troubling you?" Sirius whispers, his arms engulfing me tighter.
"I can't let anyone hurt me again. I'm not ready for it."
Sirius pulls away and smiles against my lips. "I promise, Elena Hawke . . . that I would never force you to be anything more with me than what you're ready for."
I nod and press my forehead against his, "Do you want to sneak out of the castle and refill your dungbombs' supply stash before you leave this place for good?"
Sirius's boisterous laugh echoed in the Hall and my steps were like shots as we ran towards the damned well again.
