(Nymphadora Tonks)
Sunday, November 7, 1993
I was sprawled across the sofa in my mum's living room, one leg hanging over the armrest and my hair currently an indecisive shade between bubblegum pink and dull lavender. I hadn't bothered fixing it since waking up. The morning light filtered through the tall windows of the house, soft and pale against the polished wooden floor.
Mum sat in the armchair opposite me with a cup of tea balanced calmly between her fingers, looking far more composed than I felt.
I groaned and rubbed my face with both hands.
"So I met Gilderoy yesterday," I muttered into my palms, "and it was so awkward."
Andromeda raised a single elegant brow over the rim of her teacup. She always did that when something amused her.
"And where did you meet him exactly?" she asked.
My eyes darted everywhere except at her. The bookshelf. The carpet. The ceiling. The little decorative bowl on the table.
"Ah, um, I… I can't talk about it," I stammered quickly. "Super secret, you know?"
Mum chuckled, a warm sound that made my shoulders sink slightly.
"Relax," she said. "I know about the Order. I was also invited."
I blinked in surprise.
"You were?"
"Yes," she replied calmly. "I refused, of course. But I agreed to provide help if they ever need a mediwitch."
My shoulders sagged immediately as the tension drained out of me.
"You should have told me earlier…" I groaned.
She only smiled into her tea.
I shifted upright on the sofa, tugging at a loose thread in the cushion.
"So yeah," I continued awkwardly, trying to steer the conversation back to the actual problem. "Going back to the topic, um, seeing him after a few days… I realised I still like him."
The words came out quieter than I expected.
Mum tilted her head slightly.
"Isn't that normal?" she asked gently. "You broke up less than a week ago. It's completely understandable if you still have feelings. It wouldn't surprise me if it lasted a few months."
"But it doesn't make any sense!" I complained, throwing my arms up dramatically.
My hair shifted into a frustrated shade of orange without me noticing.
"With all my previous boyfriends, all I felt was disgust upon seeing them the next day after breaking up," I continued. "This has never happened to me."
Mum chuckled softly again, the knowing sort that made me suspicious.
"That's because you were never in love with them."
I opened my mouth immediately.
"But I… I thought I was…"
The protest faded halfway through the sentence.
My shoulders slowly sank into the sofa as the realization crept in like a cold draft.
I stared at the ceiling.
"I guess you're right," I admitted reluctantly. "I just dated them because I thought they were cute."
My hair faded into a sheepish light pink.
"But we never got along as well as I did with Gilderoy."
Saying his name made my chest tighten a little.
I shifted uncomfortably and hugged a pillow to my stomach.
"So what do I do now?" I asked. "How do I deal with this feeling?"
Mum set her tea aside and leaned forward, gently taking my hand in both of hers.
Her hands were warm and steady.
"You can only let time do its job," she said softly. "Or maybe you will find someone else who will make you forget."
I stared at our joined hands, then shook my head slowly.
"I don't think it will work," I muttered.
She raised an eyebrow.
"Oh?"
I sighed dramatically and flopped further down into the cushions.
"Yesterday I tried to flirt with Remus," I admitted.
Mum blinked.
"But the whole time I kept comparing him to Gilderoy in my mind," I continued miserably, "and it made me realise just how boring he was…"
"Remus Lupin?" Andromeda asked carefully.
"Yeah, that's him," I said with a shrug.
She stared at me for a moment.
"You do know he's a werewolf, right?" she asked.
"Yeah, I know," I replied immediately. "That's why I thought he would be more exciting."
I waved a hand dismissively.
"But he was so dull," I continued. "And the whole time he treated me like a child…"
Mum sighed quietly and leaned back into her chair.
"That's because to him you might as well be a child," she said.
She tapped her fingers thoughtfully against the armrest.
"Over ten years of difference," she added. "And you're his friend's niece. It's obvious he won't see you as a woman."
"But Gilderoy is like eight years older than me and he didn't have a problem," I argued quickly.
Mum chuckled again, clearly entertained by my frustration.
"There's a big difference between eight and ten," she said patiently. "You and Gilderoy are both in your twenties, so the difference isn't that apparent."
She paused and lifted her teacup again.
"But Remus is in his thirties," she continued. "And because of his lifestyle he looks even older."
She took a small sip.
"I saw him a few months ago in Diagon Alley. The man looks older than me."
Then she gave me a dry look.
"And I'm about five years older."
I stared at her for a while, and then my shoulders slumped even further.
"When you put it like that…" I muttered, sinking deeper into the sofa cushions.
My hair shifted again, this time to a defeated pale blue.
Somewhere outside, a bird chirped cheerfully in the garden.
I groaned and buried my face into the pillow.
This whole situation was a mess.
And the worst part was that no matter how much I tried to distract myself, my thoughts kept circling back to the same stupidly charming wizard with perfect hair and an infuriatingly sincere smile.
Merlin help me.
I think I really messed this one up.
…
(Harry Potter)
I hadn't expected to be summoned to the Headmaster's office on a Sunday.
Usually, when Professor Dumbledore wanted to see someone, it happened after dinner or late in the evening, when the corridors were quieter and the castle seemed to settle into that strange nighttime stillness Hogwarts had. Sundays were supposed to be calm. Homework, maybe a trip to the library, relaxing before the week started again.
Instead, a message had arrived during breakfast telling me the Headmaster wished to see me immediately.
Which was how I now found myself standing in front of the familiar stone gargoyle guarding the entrance.
After giving the password, the statue slid aside with a grinding sound, revealing the spiral staircase behind it. I stepped on and rode it upward, my stomach twisting slightly with every turn.
Had I done something wrong?
The staircase stopped and the door to Dumbledore's office appeared in front of me. I raised my hand and knocked.
"Come in," a voice said.
Except it wasn't Dumbledore's voice.
I pushed the door open slowly.
The circular office looked the same as always. Silver instruments hummed and clicked on delicate tables. Portraits of former headmasters slept in their frames, some snoring softly. Fawkes sat quietly on his golden perch, his feathers glowing faintly in the sunlight streaming through the tall windows.
But Professor Dumbledore wasn't there.
Instead, standing near the large desk was a man I had never seen in person before.
He looked to be somewhere in his thirties. His black hair hung to his shoulders in slightly messy strands, and his grey eyes seemed fixed on me with an intensity that made me hesitate just inside the doorway.
Something about his face felt… familiar.
Not familiar in the way Ron or Hermione were familiar.
More like I had seen it somewhere before.
Recently.
I frowned slightly and took a few cautious steps into the office.
Where had I seen him?
Then it clicked and my eyes widened.
After all, his face had been plastered across half the wizarding world only a short time ago.
His wanted posters had been everywhere.
Sirius Black.
The man I had wanted to strangle with all my might.
At least until I had learned the truth. That he hadn't betrayed my parents. That Peter Pettigrew had been the real traitor all along.
But what was he doing here?
The man didn't speak. He simply stared at me, his expression strangely distant, like he had fallen into some deep memory.
The silence stretched.
Finally, unable to take it anymore, I cleared my throat awkwardly.
"Um… excuse me," I said.
His eyes snapped back into focus.
"Where is Professor Dumbledore?" I asked. "And what are you doing here?"
For a moment he just stood there, and then he swallowed.
"I…" he started, before stopping.
His grey eyes searched my face with something that looked dangerously close to disbelief.
"You look just like your father," he said quietly. "You know?"
I blinked.
"But with your mother's eyes."
A strange warmth flickered somewhere in my chest at those words.
He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.
"It wasn't Dumbledore who wanted to see you," he admitted. "It was me."
"But why?" I asked, genuinely confused.
Sirius coughed lightly into his hand, clearly trying to gather his thoughts.
"Maybe you don't know," he began slowly, "but your parents asked me to become your godfather."
My breath caught slightly.
"And I agreed," he continued. "Which means it should have been my duty to take care of you when they died."
His voice faltered and he looked down at the floor, his shoulders tightening.
For a moment the room was completely silent except for the faint ticking sounds of Dumbledore's instruments.
Then Sirius raised his head again and his eyes met mine.
"But I failed them," he said quietly.
The words felt heavy.
"I failed you."
My throat suddenly felt dry.
"I missed so many years of your life," he continued, his voice rougher now. "I should have been there for you all this time."
He shook his head slightly.
"I won't ask for forgiveness," he said. "And I won't make excuses. It was partly my fault that I ended up in Azkaban."
His mouth twisted bitterly.
"I was far too impulsive."
For a moment neither of us spoke, then he took a slow breath.
"But all I ask," he said carefully, "is that you give me a chance to make up for it."
His hands had clenched slightly at his sides.
"I… I understand if you don't want to," he added quickly. "But now that I'm free, I have a big house."
He let out a slightly nervous laugh.
"It's a bit old," he admitted. "And it used to be full of dark artifacts and pests."
I raised an eyebrow slightly.
"But it's being cleaned," he hurried to add. "And I thought that maybe…"
He hesitated and seemed nervous.
"Maybe you would like to come live with me?"
His voice softened at the end.
His expression was tense, but his eyes were filled with hope.
Real hope.
The kind that made it hard to look away.
A strange feeling settled in my chest. Nobody had ever really wanted me before.
Well… Professor Lockhart had helped me a lot. And the Weasley family always welcomed me like I belonged.
But this was different.
This man was offering me a home.
A real one.
It was the first time anyone had ever done that.
And suddenly I had no idea what to say.
Sirius seemed to notice my hesitation, because his shoulders drooped slightly, as if he had already prepared himself for rejection.
But seeing that hopeful look on his face…
I couldn't bring myself to say no.
So I nodded slowly.
"I think I can give you a chance."
For a second Sirius just stared at me.
Then he exploded.
"Yes!" he shouted, throwing both arms into the air dramatically.
The sudden reaction startled a laugh out of me before I could stop it.
He looked like he might run around the room celebrating.
Then he seemed to remember himself.
He stepped forward quickly, clearly about to hug me. But halfway there he froze and his expression turned awkward.
Instead, he stiffly extended his hand.
I reached out and shook it.
"I'm Sirius Black, by the way," he said with a grin. "I promise you won't regret this, Prongslet."
I tilted my head in confusion.
"Prongslet?"
"Oh," Sirius said quickly. "Prongs was your father's nickname among us friends."
His grin widened.
"So I thought Prongslet fit for now."
He paused thoughtfully.
"At least until you get your Animagus form and we can give you your own nickname," he added. "But if you don't like it I can…"
I shook my head.
"No," I said with a slight smile.
"It's fine. I like it."
That warm feeling in my chest grew stronger.
I squeezed his hand once before letting go.
And for the first time since meeting him, Sirius looked completely relieved.
Yeah.
I decided I liked Sirius.
…