Human Design | Sirius Black

xxxvi. Human Connection is Vital

WHEN THE FIRST Saturday of March arrived, Reece found himself craving company for what was possibly the first time since Sirius had been taken to Azkaban. Because Orla was still living in Portugal with Renato, he Apparated to Dris and Malika's duplex an hour after noon. It was Malika who opened the door, and she instantly smiled when she saw him. "Bonjour, Reece," she greeted, pulling the door open properly. She was wearing a set of bright pink floral robes and a blue khimar with no shoes or socks.

"Hey. Sorry to just show up, I just wanted to see if Dris was free cause ... I don't know, I haven't seen him for a while, so I thought I'd pop in."

"Oui, come in, come in." Malika moved aside to make room for him to enter the house and then led him into a living room, which was quite untidy and very orange. "Sorry for the mess, Ozias has become very interested in the ndamba, and he thinks everything is a ball." Ozias was their eldest son, who had just turned two, and recently they had had twins, Vanina and Jamie. "Faites comme chez vous. I will go find Dris. I think he is asleep; the babies keep him up all night, not even by crying, but just because he wants to look at them and cry himself. If it wasn't so adorable, it would be quite ridiculous." There was a gentle jingle with each step she took from the anklets she was wearing.

The drapes were the colour of peach, the walls tangerine, and the rug mango. The sofa was the colour of a yellow fig with lemon and cantaloupe cushions, one of the armchairs resembled the shade of persimmons and the second sweet potato. There were several kids' toys on the floor, including a plastic telephone with wheels and a face and a green Care Bear toy. Above the mantle was a large text that he couldn't read because it was in Arabic. Reece walked over to look at the framed pictures placed there beside a carved wooden figurine and a dark water jug, smiling instantly at the warmth that radiated from them. But then he frowned when he realised that he didn't have a single photograph of himself where he was that happy.

"You need to leave." Reece turned his head to see that Malika had returned, holding two filled glasses, and he nodded, starting through the room but she interrupted, "Non," and looked like she would hit her own forehead if her hands weren't preoccupied with the drinks, "I didn't mean here as in this house, Dris will be here in a minute, I mean leave, this, everything." She walked over to the furniture and toys to hand him one of the glasses filled with a golden liquid inside. "I brought you some bil-bil, it is homemade ale from millet and corn, my mother's recipe. Don't worry, it has very little alcohol in it, but it is very delicious. Please sit." Thanking her, he took the glass and sat down on the persimmons armchair before taking a sip. It was very delicious. Malika took a sip of her own and then said, "You need to get away from everything – your parents, your friends, your sister."

He shook his head and quickly swallowed a mouthful of ale in his hurry to reject the notion but he choked on it and had to cough several times to clear his throat. "Wh-what? N-no, I don't, I don't need to get away from anyone, why would I need to get away from anyone?" He spoke quickly.

Malika smiled gently as she sipped on her drink. "In Islam, we have a proverb that says 'close the door that brings in the wind and relax'," she said. "Sometimes it is just best to shut away the source of hurt or noise or unhappiness rather than trying to find a way to overcome it – pick your battles, oui?" He didn't think he was currently fighting any battles. What battles was he fighting? "Dris tells me you are troubled, and it is quite clear to see." Troubled? Was he? "Reece, we all love having you home, but we don't want ekwen for you. We all need to leave home sometimes to be able to come back."

When Reece crawled into bed hours later, Malika's words continued to buzz in his head at a low hum. The sun had set long ago, but the sky was clear, which allowed a cold glow to filter in through his window beside his bed and cast shadows to the mattress and duvet, shapes that he could pretend were a person that shared the bed with him and made the night easier to get through. Reaching his fingers slowly to fall into the stream of moonlight, tracing the pictures of the tattoos from his memory into the sheet that still weakly smelled of flowers and citrus and storms until his index finger followed the maze, the journey to the centre, meandering and purposeful, and then back out to the world again. Reece had yet to find the centre and yet to find the world, but he would. "I'll be free for you," he whispered before a small smile tugged at his lips at the irony of it all – him, free, Sirius, imprisoned. It certainly wasn't right, but maybe it was supposed to be like that. "Je t'aime." For now, he would, for one more final minute.