the lucky one

rebel rebel

Miranda and Mateo stare anxiously at the scene before them. Sirius looks like he's seen a ghost, and Evelyn has not said a word since they found him on the stoop.

"Elle," Sirius breathes again. "Is it really you? Elle—" Miranda has never seen Sirius behave in such a way. His face has gone the starkest of white, even paler than his normal pearlescent pallor.

His eyes are haunting, as a thousand words and memories and lost time seem to pass through him, between them. He seems almost afraid to touch her, as if he does then she will fade away. He is not certain whether he can truly grasp her or whether she is nothing but a mirage, a false promise.

Evelyn smiles, eyes shining, "Hey, Black. It's good to see you."

"No— it— it can't be—" Sirius shakes his head violently back and forth. He backs up, disbelieving. "You— you died. You were dead. Dumbledore said— you drowned. He— you and— you were dead. He was—" Sirius breaks off, voice catching in the back of his throat. "Wait— does that mean—?"

"No," whispers Evelyn. "I'm so sorry, Sirius." She chokes on a sob, "It's my fault. He saved me— he— I'm so sorry— I'm so—"

Sirius crushed Evelyn in a tight embrace, holding her close to his chest. Miranda feels tears springing to her own eyes at the sight of it. "Don't you apologize," he insists in a fierce voice. "I thought I'd lost both of you that night. I never got the chance to tell him— to tell you—"

"I knew, Sirius," says Evelyn. "He knows too. He always did."

"Still," says Sirius, sounding ragged and torn to pieces. He is beside himself. "I should've told— I should've protected him. I was supposed to protect him. He was my brother. My little brother— I—" Tears slide rapidly down Sirius's cheeks, intermingling with the flakes of snow. Miranda is forced to look away, feels almost ashamed to be in present company. This moment feels private, too personal.

We shouldn't be here.

I'm aware.

We have to leave them alone.

They're blocking the door.

We can't just stand here, Matt.

What do you want me to bloody do? Shove them aside?

After a few more minutes of silence, Miranda and Mateo have no choice but to speak. "Um— Evelyn..." Miranda taps her carefully on the shoulder,  clearing her throat ever so slightly. "...Sirius— it's— it's rather cold out here. Um— and we should probably get inside... I don't want to interrupt whatever's going on here. If— if you could just move a little to the left, Matt and I will—"

Like the flick of a switch, their aunt returns to the present. She starts slightly, exhaling, "Oh— yes, of course. Let's get inside." She sidesteps Sirius to push the door open, the cold howl of wind rushing through the darkened threshold. Miranda and Mateo follow the pair inside, silently unlacing their boots and hanging their cloaks on the hooks.

Evelyn points her wand hurriedly at the hearth. "I'll—I should—" her gaze darts around the room, unsure what to do with herself. "I suppose I should ask you if you want any tea."

Sirius barks a laugh, "You say that as if you know how to make tea."

"Shove off, Black, you prick," responds Evelyn immediately. The old, out of habit retort slipping off her tongue so naturally that she surprised both herself and Sirius. For a moment, it was as if the time that had passed had not mattered at all.

Sirius grinns wolfishly, any trace of tension lifted from the air. "Well, maybe if you'd payed any attention at comportment classes you wouldn't be such a terrible hostess."