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Sirius Black ([info]first_sirius) wrote in [info]_firstwar_hist,
@ 2009-11-30 22:03:00

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Entry tags:* complete, 1977, andromeda tonks, sirius black

Characters: Sirius Black and Andromeda Tonks
Date: July, 1977
Location: Tonks Residence
Rating: PG?
Summary: In which Sirius and Andromeda attempt to sort out how to interact without Sirius leaving in a huff. It mostly works. Sort of.
Status: Complete



The first conversation had gone well. Had been easy. Almost natural. It was reasonable that she would have sought him out. She'd left. He'd left. For different reasons, really- or maybe, deep down, it was the same reason. It was still strange to try to frame it in that terms, though, that his leaving had been like hers. In his mind, there was some sort of intrinsic, undefinable difference vested in the circumstances. But they'd both left. He'd eventually relented to her gentle inquiries though he'd have much preferred the conversation to stay centered around her explaining her own departure. All in all, it had gone well. He'd been happy that she was happy.

So it was strange when their second conversation had gone so poorly. Intellectually, he knew that they way her leaving had been treated, the way it had been explained to him had been a little warped. She'd tried to owl him, to explain things, but his mother had found those letters in short order. And then it had been six years of silence. Six years of behaving as if she had died. His family's view of her leaving may have been skewed, but the pain of it had been real. A pain they weren't allowed to acknowledge, let alone talk about. Bella had only ever talked about it once, one last time to explain the way of it to him, and then she'd never said her sister's name again. It was supposed to have been like Andromeda had died, only they'd never been permitted to grieve the loss. At ten years old, it had been difficult to understand apart from the hurt of it. Even though he thought about it differently now, understood that she'd needed to leave, it didn't erase the past hurt.

And it didn't help that James's wariness of all things Black apart from Sirius did little to put Sirius at ease. He relied on James's moral compass, especially when it came to matters of his family. Under the name Tonks, despite her being disowned, James still saw a Black. The third and fourth conversations had been equally awkward, also ending with Sirius leaving. He just had no idea how to be, how to behave around her. She was a Black, only she wasn't. He'd renounced her, but only because she'd left and he'd been too young to know to do any differently. Only he'd left, too. So they were the same. Only they weren't. And it had been six years. He was so different from the ten-year-old he'd been when she'd left. And she was... a mother. A wife and a mother and a Tonks. It wasn't like with Bella, who had so easily, so visibly still been a Black under the name Lestrange.

But it had been a month. A month since they'd tried doing this, since they'd said much of anything to each other. He got the feeling she was waiting. Or giving him space. Or something- the not knowing, the not understanding how or what she was thinking just by looking at her felt strange.

But he was at her door. The why was still a little ambiguous. But he was there. He wanted it to work. He wanted for there to be something between them, he just had no idea what it might look like. Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, he knocked on her door, his brain trying to concoct some way to keep his haphazard impulses in check, to keep himself sociable.

Maybe he should have thought this part out beforehand.



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[info]first_sirius
2009-12-06 07:19 am UTC (link)
Dora's delighted little sounds and the blossom of colour in her hair had the corners of Sirius's mouth lifting, but his smile didn't get the chance to fully bloom. The vague nature of the word 'stories' pulled hard on the thread of his attention. It was possible she meant just about him. He could envision it- perhaps after hearing he'd been disowned, because everyone seemed to have heard about it, she'd begun telling her daughter about him. It wasn't so hard to imagine the sort of hope Andy might have felt, that she'd have thought it safe to start talking to Dora about him.

But it didn't quite... click. He didn't want to ask her if she included people like her parents, or Bella, or his parents in these little stories of hers. Sirius didn't quite frown, but his face smoothed into something too somber to be called placid. Freshly wary, open, his evaluating eyes snapped back to the child in Andy's arms, the child he had yet touch. Dora seemed almost tragically innocent, her eyes devoid of the curiously shrewd enigma he feared would be growing there if Andy were in any way cultivating some kind of Black identity in her child.

Part of his mind that sounded like reason insist that Andy wouldn't do something so singularly cruel to her own child- either inflicting the venom of their family upon Dora or making Dora aware, at so young an age, that she had relatives who would consider her an abomination. He knew, beyond any doubt, that's exactly how Bella would have seen the child in front of him- Black blood contaminated with muggle. Surely that was the sort of thing children ought to be shielded from. So Sirius turned his thoughts from the matter, choosing to misunderstand.

If Andy didn't explicitly clarify if she was talking about just him or the Blacks in general, he could present the facade of believing that she just meant him. Even if suspicion labored beneath the surface, Sirius had gotten very skilled at saying the right thing, which was invariably needed to be said over what might be true, when it suited him. He didn't want to have his suspicions confirmed. If they were, he didn't know if he'd be able to come back, and he wanted this to work. There wasn't yet enough evidence to convince him this was a bad idea. What was already on the table wasn't enough to overwhelm the bone-deep sort of pull he felt toward Andy, and he wasn't anxious too feel it sever.

His eyes were still on Dora, though the illumination upon his fingertips was dwindling right along with his mood.

"I think I should go," he mentioned, his soft voice devoid of any particular emotion. He liked the shield of indifference, appreciated the way it helped him to avoid engaging emotionally. That was the last thing they needed at the moment, for him to get emotionally engaged, and if he stayed it seemed like an inevitability.

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[info]first_andromeda
2009-12-06 07:44 am UTC (link)
Andromeda wasn't sure how to take his reaction or his words to what she had said. Part of her wanted him to ask what sort of stories she had told and that same part of her wanted to lie to him and tell that the majority of their family had been excluded but Andromeda couldn't do that. She had told Dora stories of her family in the middle of the day of times that were better, of times that were good but she also included cautionary tales as well that while the stories might be pretty and nice that that was anything but the case when it came to the majority of the House of the Black. They would sooner see her daughter dead than accept her and Andromeda felt that Dora wouldn't fully understand that or fully understand the caution that needed to be used should she ever come across them when she was older if she only heard the bad. After all her family couldn't be traitorous bastards all the time. At some point they had to act like decent human beings and she didn't want her daughter to be fooled by such a facade if she ever happened to run into them. The other part of her wanted to be completely and utterly honest with him about what she had said and why she had said it but she wondered if she did that if it would slam the door on any hope they might have had at being friends, if they could even manage to do that. Andromeda had no fucking clue where all of this was going. It was something new and different each time he came to see her and as such she couldn't get a grasp on it so she just went with it. Eventually it would have to show itself for what it was going to be and when it did then Andy would act accordingly but until then she would just continue to go with things as they came to her.

"Very well," she said, her voice strong and firm though not much louder than his own. As though sensing a change in the air Dora stopped squirming about in her arms and glanced back and forth between the two of them for a moment before her hair turned a deep, dark blue. Andromeda just gave her a sad smile as she did so. Her daughter amazed her more and more with every day that passed and she had a feeling that once Dora got older that she would have her hands full with her.

"Do you want me to see you out?"

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[info]first_sirius
2009-12-06 08:08 am UTC (link)
Love meant someone never asked him to choose between them and something else, and reciprocal love meant that whoever it was never had to. That was the difference between his parents and James. James had never asked him to leave, never pleaded for some kind of demonstration of allegiance. His parents had, at every turn. Sirius wanted to love Andy, banning the question of whose side she would pick if pressed: his or their family's. It did little to ease Sirius's concerns that he was dreading the day he found out the answer.

"It's fine," he dismissed, his head giving a small shake.

He could see it in his head, sort of, a time when he'd be able to smile at her, kiss her cheek when he left, but they weren't there yet. Maybe they'd never get to that point. Maybe it was trying to have too much, both James for a brother and Andy for a cousin.

"This was..." he wanted to say 'better,' and it had been, for a little while there. But now they were back to this ambiguous gray territory. Though at least he had no intention of slamming the door as he left. "I'll see you," was all he offered as an assurance that he meant come back.

That it couldn't be simple, couldn't be straightforward and easy with her stroked along Sirius's budding worry, the worry that James had been so quick articulate - that Andy was somehow, miraculously, still a Black. When it was simple and effortless between Blacks, it was because they were close. When it was complicated, it was because they were Blacks. They just had a way of cutting at each other in a way that was both cathartic and traumatic. It was the kind of hurt Sirius found his treacherous senses craving. At the mere thought, Sirius's left hand was tensing, his fingers spreading, the memory of a blade in his flesh all too accessible. He was quickly balling his rebellious, nostalgic hand into a loose fist as he turned to head for the door.

There was little hope that he'd be able to conceal from James that this wasn't going as well as he'd hoped. A vague plan took shape in his mind, angled at putting himself in a better mood for when he went waltzing back to the Potters'. Maybe stopping by that muggle record store. Buy something to distract himself - and later, James - with. Flirt with the blond who worked there. Maybe offer to take her out for coffee or something. That seemed like a very good distraction, once he started to think on it. Shutting the door gently behind him, Sirius began resolutely redirecting his thoughts, pushing his more turbulent considerations aside.

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