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'If chaos is a work of art then my heart is a masterpiece'
– d. Antoinette Foy
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"How long has she been here?" Harry spoke up, as it was only himself and Sirius within the kitchen, early in the morning as he nibbled on his eggs, too nervous to eat properly,
He was dressed in an old suit, his nicest clothing, for the hearing that day. Molly even insisted he comb his hair the night before but let's be real; she knew deep down there was no chance in neatness.
"This whole summer; Dumbledore brought, no, trapped her here for her 'own protection.'" Sirius sighed, sitting across from Harry, a coffee mug in his hands. "A load of crap if you ask me, leaving you two in the dark."
"Oh."
"It hasn't been easy for her, you know." Sirius began, continuing even as Harry opened his mouth to respond. "I know what happened last night."
"Sirius, I—" Harry started to apologise.
"No need." He shook his head. "You're not in trouble."
Harry's guilt was unblemished upon his face, halting the picking of his food, looking upward to his Godfather, whose face held an unreadable expression, taking a sip from his drink.
"She didn't tell me, by the way. I heard it." He said.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't say sorry to me." He raised his eyebrows. "You know who you should be apologising to."
Silence.
"Harry, I don't want to hold you back. I don't want to be that person who always makes you rethink everything you've done. I just want to know one thing."
Harry sat up straighter, hands fidgeting beneath the table.
"Why? Why do you act this way toward Adeline?" Sirius asked—usually you'd expect his tone to be sharp and strict saying this, but it wasn't. It was more empathetic, leading onto something.
"Well... She never told me—about Voldemort being her dad. She says she never knew but I don't know what to believe." He blinked hastily, feeling his eyes water, averting his eyes to anywhere but Sirius. "Hermione warned me about getting close to her but I didn't listen. Obviously. She said it would've been like Christine all over again from third year—remember her?"
"Of course I do. Christine Lestrange." Sirius managed to control his resentment, sighing. "The one who you knew since second year, right?"
"First year. She helped Pettigrew escape." He recalled quietly. "Ron and Hermione—more Hermione, didn't want me to get hurt again. I thought it was ridiculous—thought she'd never be anything like Christine.
"And then that night happened and he came back. And... you know." He muttered, hanging his head. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be." Sirius told him gently, his coffee all gone. "But I think you should try talking to her. Straighten things out. It's a big world out there, and she can't face it alone. Remember your promise to Dumbledore."
"That I'll keep her safe, I know." Harry took a deep breath, ashamed of his next words. "But I don't know if I'm ready. I'm scared I'll burst out again and hurt her. It's like a part of me is telling me to get as far from her as I can. As if she's going to suddenly turn into the monster that fought me alongside the psychopath that killed my parents. That she'll betray us all just like Christine."
"Look at me." Sirius instructed, Harry doing as told. "I know it's hard. I know that it feels like you have to stay away from her, treat her like a death eater. But, Harry, please listen to me. You have to trust her if we want to win this arising war. For everyone's sake."
"Just think about that. Good luck on the Hearing." And with that, he left Harry to his thoughts in the now soundless kitchen, Adeline having to hide behind a large vase at the entrance of the room to avoid being spotted, waiting for Sirius to be out of sight before she released her hitched breath.
She finally had some answers.
a/n:
oooo bet none of you saw that coming.
you probably did and i'm just very predictable.
yep.
anyway, hope you enjoyed it!
(ha finally a little bit of info on Christine Lestrange)
