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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 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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