Silent Secrets

Chapter I

A/N:

I OWN NONE OF JK ROWLING'S CHARACTERS OR PLOTS!! ANYTHING YOU DON'T RECOGNIZE PROBABLY BELONGS TO ME. DON'T STEAL IT/THEM!

and, enjoy! :)
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PART I

I lay alone in a back alleyway, scrunched up into a shivering ball sandwiched between several smelly, ripped garbage bags and the wall near the mouth of the alley. Silent tears slipped down my face, hanging off my chin for a moment before falling. Quivering ever so slightly, I closed my eyes, utterly exhausted, despite my intentions to stay alert.

It was my first mistake.

Sometime later, I heard footsteps near the mouth of the alley. I squeaked in surprise, instantly berating myself for having lost control. Sound attracts people. Sound lets them know you are there. Sound brings pain.

The footsteps paused, then slowly ventured down the alley, whispering softly along the grimy pavement and pausing every now and then as though debating whether or not to go back. I should have hidden farther down, I thought fearfully. Maybe they wouldn't have checked down there. I silently ducked my head, hoping to make myself invisible. The dark figure suddenly turned, catching sight of a flash of dark, greasy red---my hair. True, I hadn't washed it in some time, and I was certain some form of alien life was breeding in the long, snarled mass, but it still glimmered red when it caught the light exactly right. And though the shadowed alleyway had barely enough to see by, the shaft of moonlight angling down over the tall buildings now brought everything into greater relief, glinting over my matted mop. The figure cautiously came closer, their hands up as though they were calming a wounded animal, eyes narrowed with suspicion. I sank down against the slimy, reeking bags of refuse, desperately wishing to be invisible.

The hooded figure had spotted me, had discovered I posed no threat. Taking in my miserable countenance and the apprehension that colored my eyes, they yanked off their hood, revealing a thin boy no older than I was.

"Sh...it's okay," he said squatting down opposite me, still keeping his distance. He murmured other soothing phrases, continuing to treat me as though I were a wounded animal. Almost against my will, I felt myself calm down, though I was still wary. He was, after all, a complete stranger; though in my experience, it mattered little whether I knew the person or whether they were a stranger: as it turned out, people just universally sucked. 

"My name's Remus," he whispered softly, gently. He paused, giving me a chance to respond. I remained silent, my wide eyes never leaving him for a moment, my distrust of him evident. Remus nodded, as though he had never really expected me to respond. "That's okay; you don't have to tell me." He continued on, telling me about his life. I don't think he really knew what he was saying---he was just talking to keep me calm. He told me about his mom and dad, and how they traveled a lot. He described his parents' jobs, about how complicated his dad's work was, being some government bloke, about how his mother was a doctor and how amazing she was, but not widely known. I drifted in and out of the conversation; most of what he said made no sense to me, yet despite that fact, his voice and the cadence of his tale was still soothing to me. At one point he began describing how he'd never been able to attend school, but now he'd been accepted at a prestigious but little heard of boarding school in the country. I blinked slowly in response to the sudden barrage of information I'd been handed. Why was this boy---Remus---spending so much time and energy trying to...what, make me feel better? To calm me down? Surely that couldn't be right; who would waste their time trying to soothe me, of all people? 

Remus had fallen silent, apparently out of things to say. He stayed where he was, though, focusing down toward the mouth of the alley. His eyes darted toward me frequently, as though he wanted to get a good look but feared being impolite. I blinked again in surprise, then squinted curiously. This boy's behavior was so strange to me---he went out of his way, evidently, to calm me down, and despite having found me in a back alley and surely feeling deeply curious and suspicious, despite having no idea of who I was, still seemed to respect my privacy---more than that; he seemed to respect me as a person. My brow furrowed. Respect was not a foreign concept to me---it was a survival tactic. Yet, I had never experienced it directed at me. It was...curious, to say the least.

I had relaxed slightly, without realizing it. I was still slouched behind the garbage bags, trying to remain out of view, but I wasn't as on guard as I should have been. My brain was fuzzy with exhaustion, emotional and physical, and though I sluggishly tried to focus back in on the strange boy, I found my attention drawn toward the mouth of the alley by warped, laughing voices across the street. I tensed, and my eyes widened slightly; the sound was strangely reminiscent of the maniacal drunken laugh my father possessed. Eventually, the boys shuffled on, and I returned my attention to the strange boy next to me, briefly meeting his gaze in the process. His pale cheeks had a slight red tinge to them, as though he were embarrassed to have been caught studying me.

I blinked, wondering what could be so interesting about me (besides the fact that I was a strange little girl abandoned in a back alleyway in the dead of night, that is. Or perhaps that was reason enough). I was certain I looked like a complete mess---what with the disgusting mat of greasy, waist-length red hair, my unusually skinny frame, and suspicious amber eyes hollowed into purple circles of exhaustion, not to mention me over-sized clothing that could never even begin to fit me. I supposed if I were a normal child, I'd want to study me, too. 

Remus shifted, and I froze, my fearful gaze fixed on him. He glanced at his wristwatch, then up at the moon, shrouded once more by clouds. He looked torn, as though uncertain what to do. The digits on his watch were still illuminated, and I could barely make out 11:00 PM on it. I frowned. 

"Look, I, um, have to go," Remus said awkwardly, shifting again. I continued staring at him, never responding. Taking my silence as consent, he quickly asked, "Do you come here often?"

I pondered whether to respond. I had good reason not to trust anyone. Others could break whatever trust you gave them. Extending even a finger in friendship resulted in the entire hand being bitten off. Betrayal was a natural response of the human race. If I gave any inclination that this was my refuge, how was I to know he wouldn't tell my father and take away the only hiding place I had left? Still, that didn't seem to fit with this boy's character---this boy who had bothered to sit with me for an extended amount of time, who had poured out story after story after story from his life in what I could only assume was an effort to soothe me---Remus, who had been the first to show me any inkling of human kindness in a very, very long while. Of all the things in this world that I could possibly need, I needed a friend the most.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, I moved my head in a tiny, jerky bob. Yes.

Remus looked at me, startled. "You...you do come here a lot, then?"

I nodded again, still unwilling to speak. I hadn't spoken in so long, I wasn't even certain I could have if I wanted to.

He smiled. "I'll come back then," he whispered. Standing, he brushed himself off, before flashing one more sad sort of grin and pulling his black hood up, walking up the alleyway until he was indistinguishable from the shadows once more.

I sighed softly as he left, vowing to myself that I would never give more of my story than this. He had told me what might have been his entire life story, and yet I still didn't know anything about him---his character, his beliefs, what he would and wouldn't do. And, until I knew him on that deep a level, I couldn't trust him. And, as getting to that depth of a relationship would require I give something of myself to him in return---scraps of knowledge about my life or my character---I figured we would never get beyond this stage, if he did ever come back, of him talking and I listening, struggling to stay conscious.