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chapter thirteen; up on the tree house
The sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of pink and orange, bringing the darkness out where she could already see some stars. She remembered her father telling her a story of a thief who managed to steal them and give them to his lover as a gift.
She knew her father would try and steal the sun if he could. But he wouldn't give it to her mother, he'd make sure everyone knew he stole it and he'd bid it off for the highest amount of money he could get—no matter that he didn't need it at all.
Moody was right, her father was a thief, a filthy thief at that—and she was just like him. Just another criminal who stood back and did nothing. She didn't deserve the Order's trust and she sure as hell didn't deserve the Potters. How could she be happy when she'd made others suffer?
Elio's blood-stained lips flashed in her mind, his ashen face, and a tear slipped past her eyes. She briskly wiped it away.
She hadn't had nightmares in days. She hadn't been back in the Consortium since James held her as she slept and she wanted to stay out. But maybe she deserved to go back.
Or maybe it was her mind messing with her again. Convincing her she wasn't worth it, because no matter how happy she was something always nagged at her, whispering menacingly all the insecurities she had.
Sometimes, Amaya hated her mind.
She heard footsteps and someone climbing up the ladder, yet her eyes remained on the horizon. Only one person knew where she was, and if he kept his mouth shut she didn't mind that he stayed. She was sitting on the edge of the half-built tree house the boys had tried to build in their Second Year, and she felt strangely safe. She wished she had grown up with them.
He sat down next to her in silence, passing her a flask of firewhiskey without a word. She took a sip and passed it back before reaching out her hand. Sirius snorted out a laugh as he placed a cigarette on her palm and with a blink it was lit and she took a long-needed drag.
She hadn't smoked in weeks, not feeling the need—right now, she could've smoked a whole pack and it wouldn't be enough to shut off her fucking mind and its destructive tendencies.
"You know," he started, blowing out smoke, "James fell off this house when we were building it. Broke his nose."
Her lips tugged into a small smile and she huffed out the smoke. "That's why it's crooked then?"
"Well, that and countless other times something hit him in the nose."
"I like his nose," Amaya said without thinking, her cheeks flushing and Sirius let out a laugh. She rolled her eyes. "What about yours?"
