Sometimes you can’t explain how something happens. It just goes all too fast to even grasp. Sometimes you get hurt and other times you escape, barely touched.
When I was younger, I believed in true love and all that jazz. I was so sure my knight in shining armor would come and rescue me and I was certain that my father never lied.
Believe me, I was lied to.
“Alea, there is something I need to tell you. Something important.” Ah. The two sentences that filled me with dread. Dumbledore looked anxious.
“Alea, you never met your mother, true?” And there was a sore subject. She had left just after I was born. Never to return.
It was hard growing up without her.
You can tell which girls have mothers and which don’t. The mothered children have perfect hair, neatly tied in ribbons and tasteful clothes, picked out at the finest shops.
The motherless, on the other hand, struggle with bows, and don’t know how to properly brush their hair. Their clothes, well it’s a fifty fifty chance that they’ll some how inherit genes of good fashion with no maternal influence.
I was the fifty that had not developed any partial caring towards what I wear. With two brothers, I wore what was there. Looking down at my scuffed boots, I realized they were living proof of my non existent sense of fashion.
The beige tint to them had long vanished, replaced with a brownish looking color that seemed to suit me more.
Nothing about who I was, was clean cut or new. Yes, I was more like the worn out color of my boots. Her boots.
The only thing that my mother had left behind. Odd enough, when I found them in our attic when I was fourteen I hadn’t wanted them because they were hers. I sympathized with them.
They were just another one of those objects my mother could care less about and discarded. I had worn them ever since.
“Alea?” Asked Dumbledore. I looked around at his office, at this school. I didn’t understand how we had gotten there.
Or why we had. But it was an amazing office. There were so many things littered on the shelves, the floor, the desk.
Amazing, beautiful, wonderful and frightening things. And then I looked at Dumbledore and nodded.
“I never knew her.” I was never like those motherless children who go out searching for their mother. I liked what I knew.
It was comfortable and I didn’t need her intruding. A twinkle settled in the old man’s eyes.
“Amelia Gibson was one of the brightest witches in her class. She was muggleborns and had no magical blood.” And then it hit me. Amelia was my mother.
“She was a witch? My mother was a witch?” He shook his head.
“Not your mother, child. Your grandmother. She married a muggle and had your father. Your father didn’t inherit his mother’s power.” I looked down at my boots, angry with this man who had just brought up my hopes and let them limply fall.
There was no way I could inherit something so unlikely. Maybe that was good. Maybe that was bad. I couldn’t be sure.
“There is hope for you. Yes, there is hope, Miss. Gibson.” He reached into his desk and took out what I knew to be a wand.
“Here, hold this.” I held it, feeling the smooth bark beneath my fingers. The feeling that my friends felt everyday.
“Give it a wave.” I waved. I poked. I sliced through the air every way.
Nothing happened. When I looked up he smiled the way you would smile at a child. Sadness was in his eyes.
He nodded and held out his hand. I placed the wand in his palm.
“Sir?” I asked he nodded in recognition.
“Excuse me for being so blunt as to say I haven’t helped the Order at all, I’ve just been a burden. When can I even offer something useful?” He smiled once again, all sadness washed from his eyes,
“Give it time, Alea. Give it time.”
I walked with soil pulling my boots with each step I took. I had only realized then how attached I was to them. Because we were both broken in too far, both worn from time, both led at the liberty of others, and both scarred from life itself, we held an understanding.
I know it sounds odd to hold an understanding with shoes, but I did. It was easy to. The boots reminded me of a puppy. Lost and sad looking.
And who couldn’t love a puppy? I slowly walked down the street. It was so odd there. Nothing like town. It was called Diagon Alley.
I had to pick up flubberworms for one of Severus’ potions. He had sent me out saying that if I wasn’t good for anything, I may as well run errands.
I was too scared to argue. Slowly I walked into the shop and told the man what I needed.
I bought the worms and waited for Remus to pick me up and bring me back to Hogwarts, where we were staying until they found a new Headquarters or until winter break was over and the students came back. Whatever came first.
Remus apparated with a pop and brought me back to Hogwarts by apparating. I was getting used to the whole business. As I walked around later I heard a voice.
“Alea!” I heard a voice behind me and I spun around.
“I don’t have time, Sirius,” I said shortly, walking along the edge of the lake. I had stayed at this school for a night and I was absolutely in love with the grounds.
This had been the school my friends had gone to. It was amazing. I envied all of those students that had been lucky enough to go there. Sirius had caught up with me.
He was walking at an even pace with me and he was slightly panting for breath.
“Hey, Alea. There’s something I have to tell you.” I turned to him and cocked my head slightly.
“What?” He leaned in out of nowhere his lips were against mine. I hastily pushed him away as soon as I had realized what was happening.
“Wh-what are you doing?” I demanded and he only smiled.
“Just telling you how I feel. I’m tired of hiding everything. Hell, I’m tired of being scared of dieing! Living only to be frightened is no way to live at all! And I’m not scared anymore.” And there it was. Sirius Black pouring his heart out to me. Just like that. Too bad it was too late. I felt tears start to form in my eyes.
Why? Because I was scared and that was how I lived these days. Being frightened. I was scared of dieing. Sirius was just a few years too late.
And then I looked at him, his expression so serious. And then I did it. I raised my hand and slapped him.
I didn’t care. There he was tearing my emotions left and right, without a care in the world. I broke down, and sank to my knees.
My legs slightly stuck into the cold soil which was still wet from the morning rain. And pictures of my motherless self flew into my mind.
Of my old life.
Pictures of me at fifteen writing ‘Mrs. Alea Black’
in my diary. I cried. Sirius didn’t understand, yet he kneeled down next to me. He wasn’t sure what to do.
The mark on his cheek was still bright red. I wrapped my arms around his neck and cried.
He hugged him and rubbed my back saying things like,
“It’s alright, It’s going to be alright.” And I pulled away after a while and looked him straight in the eye, tired of this game.
My face was only inches away from his. My brown eyes looking into his steely gray ones. He uttered two words.