Ella ○ Harry Potter

Sixty Eight: Where I Have You

She was fixing her hair in the mirror, cleaning her nose, and trying to make her eyes stop looking like that. And then she did again, and again, and again.

Ella couldn't step out of the room like that, yet she had to get the courage from the powder in front of her. She was about to splash water on her face when the door to the bathroom suddenly opened. Her eyes snapped to the door, and she was almost surprised to see Snape and Sirius together, not bickering or staring at each other with hatred. 

"You two friends now?" she smiled, and suddenly realized Sirius' eyes were on the bag that sat by the tap. "Sirius-"

"I hoped they're lying," his voice shook, and she couldn't deal with the hurt she delivered on him. 

"I'm fine," she assured. "It's under control. I just... need help getting--"

"You need help, Ella."

She looked at Snape in surprise, but his expression didn't soften. It didn't twist in judgment, either. It was just still. Unmoving. That made it worse somehow. A pit in her stomach made her want to reach out to the sink. 

"You said you'd flush it," he said, not accusingly, just reminding her.

"I meant to," she whispered. Her hand was already inching toward the sink, the bag, the evidence.

"Don't," Sirius said sharply, and that tone cut through her like nothing else. Not shouting. Not scolding. Just that sliver of broken glass in his throat. "Don't touch it again. Please."

"I'm trying," she said, like that would make it better. Like saying it was enough. "I'm trying, Sirius, I swear. But I can't sleep, and I can't think, and the world's too loud, and it's like something's crawling under my skin-"

"You think I don't know what that sounds like?" Snape's voice cut across hers like a scalpel. "You don't need more, you need to stop."

She turned to him, eyes wide, wounded. "If you know, then you know I need just a little more time, one more night."

"No." Snape stepped forward. His dark robes whispered across the floor. "You need less time. Less powder. Less lying to the people trying to save your life."

She backed into the counter, cornered, eyes flicking between them. Snape. Sirius. Both too close, too quiet, too real. It was absurd the two of them were so united. It terrified her.

"I'm not ready," she said, voice cracking.

And Sirius, Sirius did something she wasn't ready for. The only thing that could break her further than she was already broken, because he was the sole person still under her skin. 

He cried.

He turned away, one hand gripping the doorknob, the closest thing to him, like he might fall without it. His shoulders hunched forward, silent, shuddering.

"I looked for you," he said, voice barely audible. "I looked everywhere. I thought you were dead. Every day I pictured it, what they'd tell me. What they'd find."

"I'm here," she said softly.

"But you're not," he snapped, rounding back on her, eyes red, and face twisted in anger and pain. "Not really. You're half here. The rest of you is buried under that filth." He pointed at the bag like it burned. "So if you're gonna come back, then come back. Otherwise. don't you dare pretend it's for me."

She flinched. She couldn't breathe. She felt like her bones were shaking in place.

Snape watched her crumble, and for the first time since entering, his voice softened.