Hellfire 𖤓 Sirius Black

xvii. Why Are You Avoiding Me, You Git?

Rosalie's visions don't stop. From the moment she's home, a barrage of the past hits her (a scene with stupid Evan Rosier and his less-jerk of a brother, Elijah), and then she's swaying and crying and throwing up in the bathroom, with no one to hold her hair back, or hold her.

But she can survive this. Rosalie Edson is a survivor. At least, that is what she tells herself, because if she doesn't, she'll crack. And with history flowing in her veins, she can't lose herself to this cruel world, not with all the bets against her. Not with Sirius hellbent on avoiding her, not with her family poised to leave her the moment she says something — because she's a freak.

Rosalie is a freak of nature.

She doesn't know how her visions of history began, but they did. It was a few dreams in the middle of the night, dark and dreary. Her parents comforted Rosalie, who back then, was a regular daughter. A human girl, a humane girl, a girl of kindness and words and tears that poured from her dark eyes.

Then came the realisation. When Rosalie figured out her visions were of the past, she used the journal Hana gave her to write every single sordid detail of her visions down until her hands ached and she fell asleep on her comfortable bed.

And on some days, Acacia was — and is — by her side. Her best friend never says anything. She didn't speak when Rosalie dyed her hair blonde after the winter of losing her biological father, even if there was nothing to lose. When Rosalie cried in the bathroom, vomiting her lunch, Acacia held her hair in silence.

For weeks, Rosalie dressed in loose shirts to hide her stomach pudge from the world, and Acacia simply looked her in the eye, touched her cheek, and told her that it was okay. And that is that, because the two girls will be intertwined forever.

Except with their secrets. Rosalie knows that Acacia has a bottle of them, hidden from the world, and so does Rosalie. She's aware that perhaps their secrets will be their downfall, but she doesn't need to know everything about someone to love them.

With a few cleaning spells thanks to her being of age, Rosalie stumbles into the shower, lets the water run through her coarse, dark hair, and then slumps into bed. Her sheets smell of home, and the world turns to darkness as another vision ravages her until she is nothing but stone.

Rosalie needs a distraction, and Sirius is the number one distraction. From the moment her dreams were discovered to be visions, she let herself get lost in an immature hating game. Rosalie wandered through insults and banter just for it to be thrown in her face when she took a step forward. Sirius is made from more than just insults, Rosalie knows, but perhaps he failed to realise that he's just not a shell to verbally spar with.

She heads to her desk, where an open window sits. An owl is perched at the windowsill, an envelope tied to its leg.

Rosalie beckons the owl inside, untying the letters, reading the contents (where James is begging for advice on how to write to Lily), and feeds the owl a few treats she keeps inside her desk. She's used to Acacia or Drake's owls barging in and eating all the food she's stored, and that's how her owl snack drawer was formed.

Wiping off sweat from her brow, she quickly writes a letter to James, her hands shaking with anticipation. Not only does she write back with advice, she arranges a day at James's house, just to confront her monkey-not friend for avoiding her like a loser with

Rosalie vows to figure out the baboon's serious issues with her.

Sirius issues. Hah.

Lord, she needs help.

The owl flies back and forth the next day, chirping with letters the two have been exchanging, the topics ranging from Lily to the next school year to James's latest pranking methods on his family.