Disarranged
chapter 8: company
I was still recovering, and everyday Sirius made an appearance. He would come in, talking on and on about some random topic, kick his shoes off, and lay next to me on the large queen-sized bed. He hadn't mentioned my near-death experience yet, and I was fine with that.
"It's a shame the manor burnt down," he had said once. It was the closest to a discussion we had of that night. "I wanted to read so many of the books that were in your library."
"We can buy them at a bookstore when I'm better," I assured. "We can even get you A Farewell to Arms by Hemingway. I noticed you quite liked his other works."
A few days later Sirius had procured a copy of the novel and had begun reading it to me in bed. I couldn't help but feel Sirius seemed manic with his treatment of me. He always seemed to be putting on a show and trying to exude as much energy and happiness as he could, but it was to the point it seemed unnatural.
I appreciated him reading to me, however, and secretly found it romantic. I would never admit that, though. I could imagine Sirius lording it over me for the rest of my life.
Dumbledore walked in one day while Sirius and I were lounging, A Farewell to Arms open in Sirius' right hand and his left around my shoulders.
He immediately jumped up to attention, and Dumbledore looked at his socked feet, a twinkle in his eye.
"It's wonderful to see you recovered, Miss Urquart and are in good company," he pleasantly greeted. Sirius awkwardly cleared his throat and leaned on the dresser. Dumbledore smiled at the action.
"It's nice to see you too," I politely answered. "Sirius has been helping me walk around the house and has been very patient with me."
Dumbledore's eyes were still twinkling. It always unnerved me because I learned it meant he always knew something I didn't.
"That's what friends are for," Dumbledore quoted the old saying. Sirius gave a cough and seemed very interested in the knick knacks on the dresser. "I have come to talk about other topics, unfortunately."
I gave a grave nod, straightening my posture as Dumbledore continued: "You hold a very prominent seat in Pureblood society, and it is likely that you will be targeted more often from this point forward. I also believe we both know who led the attack that night, and the effects it has on your reason and safety. It is with this knowledge that I am advising you to remain in number 12 Grimmauld Place for the time being."
"By advise, you mean that you're telling me," I translated, looking at my folded hands.
Dumbledore gave a simple answer. "Yes."
"You can't make her a prisoner too!" Sirius immediately growled and I jumped at the ferocity in his voice. "You can't just tell people who may come and who may go! You saw how powerful she is!"
"And her power is the reason why she must be kept safe," reasoned Dumbledore.
"Sirius, please don't start now," I sighed. "It's like before: it's not just about me or you." Sirius didn't seem convinced however, intensely glaring at the intricate woodwork of the dresser as if his gaze could make it combust.
Dumbledore rested a gentle hand on my shin and offered a supportive smile before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.
Sirius seemed to be seething. If he were a pot, the water would be boiling over and onto the stove. He began to pace nervously in front of my bed, a deep frown on his face.
"I don't mind being here," I assured him. "I didn't leave the manor much either."
"You don't understand it!" he snapped but did not cease his pacing. "To be trapped in this vile place."
"At least we have each other for company," I offered. "That can't be so bad?" He suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned to me. His disposition slowly brightened, a smile gracing his otherwise weary features.
"No, it's not bad at all," he conceded as he walked over to the bed and plopped down next to me. He let out a big sigh and I imagined his previous frustration leaving his body.
We were silent for a few moments before he asked, "Who led the attack that night?" I was hoping he hadn't picked up on that.
"An old friend," I vaguely responded.
"You can trust me," he urged.
"I know," I relented and rubbed my eyes. "It's just a lot." One of his arms wrapped around my midriff as he rolled to my side.
"Tell me," was his simple request.
"It's a shame the manor burnt down," he had said once. It was the closest to a discussion we had of that night. "I wanted to read so many of the books that were in your library."
"We can buy them at a bookstore when I'm better," I assured. "We can even get you A Farewell to Arms by Hemingway. I noticed you quite liked his other works."
A few days later Sirius had procured a copy of the novel and had begun reading it to me in bed. I couldn't help but feel Sirius seemed manic with his treatment of me. He always seemed to be putting on a show and trying to exude as much energy and happiness as he could, but it was to the point it seemed unnatural.
I appreciated him reading to me, however, and secretly found it romantic. I would never admit that, though. I could imagine Sirius lording it over me for the rest of my life.
Dumbledore walked in one day while Sirius and I were lounging, A Farewell to Arms open in Sirius' right hand and his left around my shoulders.
He immediately jumped up to attention, and Dumbledore looked at his socked feet, a twinkle in his eye.
"It's wonderful to see you recovered, Miss Urquart and are in good company," he pleasantly greeted. Sirius awkwardly cleared his throat and leaned on the dresser. Dumbledore smiled at the action.
"It's nice to see you too," I politely answered. "Sirius has been helping me walk around the house and has been very patient with me."
Dumbledore's eyes were still twinkling. It always unnerved me because I learned it meant he always knew something I didn't.
"That's what friends are for," Dumbledore quoted the old saying. Sirius gave a cough and seemed very interested in the knick knacks on the dresser. "I have come to talk about other topics, unfortunately."
I gave a grave nod, straightening my posture as Dumbledore continued: "You hold a very prominent seat in Pureblood society, and it is likely that you will be targeted more often from this point forward. I also believe we both know who led the attack that night, and the effects it has on your reason and safety. It is with this knowledge that I am advising you to remain in number 12 Grimmauld Place for the time being."
"By advise, you mean that you're telling me," I translated, looking at my folded hands.
Dumbledore gave a simple answer. "Yes."
"You can't make her a prisoner too!" Sirius immediately growled and I jumped at the ferocity in his voice. "You can't just tell people who may come and who may go! You saw how powerful she is!"
"And her power is the reason why she must be kept safe," reasoned Dumbledore.
"Sirius, please don't start now," I sighed. "It's like before: it's not just about me or you." Sirius didn't seem convinced however, intensely glaring at the intricate woodwork of the dresser as if his gaze could make it combust.
Dumbledore rested a gentle hand on my shin and offered a supportive smile before leaving the room, closing the door behind him.
Sirius seemed to be seething. If he were a pot, the water would be boiling over and onto the stove. He began to pace nervously in front of my bed, a deep frown on his face.
"I don't mind being here," I assured him. "I didn't leave the manor much either."
"You don't understand it!" he snapped but did not cease his pacing. "To be trapped in this vile place."
"At least we have each other for company," I offered. "That can't be so bad?" He suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned to me. His disposition slowly brightened, a smile gracing his otherwise weary features.
"No, it's not bad at all," he conceded as he walked over to the bed and plopped down next to me. He let out a big sigh and I imagined his previous frustration leaving his body.
We were silent for a few moments before he asked, "Who led the attack that night?" I was hoping he hadn't picked up on that.
"An old friend," I vaguely responded.
"You can trust me," he urged.
"I know," I relented and rubbed my eyes. "It's just a lot." One of his arms wrapped around my midriff as he rolled to my side.
"Tell me," was his simple request.