Sirius Black (infit_sirius) wrote in sic_infit, @ 2009-07-31 23:26:00 |
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Entry tags: | character: hestia jones, character: sirius black, place: order safe house, place: private residence |
Characters: Sirius Black and Hestia Jones
Date: August 1st, 1999
Location: Safe House/12 Grimmauld Place
Rating: PG-13 for boozing and potty mouthing.
Summary: Sirius is wallowing and Hestia joins in on the pity party.
Status: Complete
Sirius sat slumped in a dining room chair, and open bottle of Firewhskey in front of him next to a half-drained glass. The safe house was relatively quiet, and for that he was thankful. It meant people were either enjoying one another's company elsewhere or were gone all together. Either way they weren't anywhere near him, which was exactly what he wanted.
He supposed he could drink his sorrows away at home, but he wanted to be near Dorcas as much as he could in case anything happened. Since Thursday he had taken to staying at the safe house twenty-four-seven, sitting up and talking to Dori when she was awake, helping with her meals and personal needs, and sleeping int he chair by her bed when she was sleeping. Sometimes while she was napping or when her medications knocked her out early he stole away to other rooms in the house to quietly drink, mulling over everything in his head.
It didn't solve a damn thing, all of the moping, but it made him feel a bit better. As long as he was drinking he felt numb, and numb meant he didn't have to consider the aching he felt on the inside. He did not like to admit or accept heartache, and when it hit him it hit him hard. It taken him several years to feel the burnt of Dori's not returning, his slow acceptance of her death (though now proven untrue) had sent him into a downward spiral. He had spent a lot of years at the bottom of a bottle, and even more trying to resurface. Now it seemed as though he were sinking back into old habits, pushing things aside so he just didn't have to teal with them at all, and it felt nice.
Dori was sick, still, very sick. She had, of course, made her improvements but there were still miles ahead of them to go. James was still put off with him and they only spoke out of courtesy for others around them. He'd barely eaten, rarely slept, and then there was the matter of Remus. It was it's own rather large mess that he wasn't sure how to set about mopping up. On one hand, he cared for Dori. The boy in him always would. On the other, twenty was a lot of years. He had always cared for Remus, he supposed, only boyhood feelings had shifted into something much more deep and carnal, and that was it's own issue. Not to mention the fact that he was very unhappy that Remus had just taken off like that, and hadn't written a word.
Downing the rest of the glass, he refilled it and sat it back down in front of him, just staring at the amber liquid with heavy consideration. It took very little liquid in the lungs to drown a person. Maybe if he kept trying at it, he'd eventually hit it right. So he took another drink.