Tell Me a Story

She moved like a stray petal in the wind.

She was short, and stocky, like her mother and her older twin brothers, yet she was also feminine, soft.

She cleaned with a passion, scrubbing dirt from the floor as if it would sear her own bit of darkness from her skin. He knew that some part of her still held vestiges of her second year.

She had come to him, crying nosily, after her nightmares had woken her up. Skin slick with sweat, she had curled into his lap and bawled out the black scenes that played in her head, the fears of never being complete, never knowing true happiness again. She came to him because she knew he understood. He still had wreaths of darkness around his own soul, vestiges of more than a decade in Azkaban. So he played with her hair, matted with her sweat, and talked to her until she fell asleep. And as she snored softly, he realised how strange it was, to have a lovely girl in his lap. Had it been so long since Lily had sat in his lap, laughing as she kissed James? But he didn't hold any attraction towards Lily. And this girl....

It was wrong, and he knew. And she knew. But Sirius was an honourable man, and would not touch her until she came of age. Three long years. He thought he might die before then, not being able to play with her hair.

But he had to be satisfied with what she gave him. He grinned to himself, crookedly, at the little signs she gave that screamed of her possession of him.

I'm sitting next to Sirius, she declared. Sirius, tell me the story about the time... she said every night, sitting at his feet and gently resting her head on his knee. And she played with his shoelaces, and he'd pat her head. Just an escaped convict on the run and a distant relative enjoying a moment of silence together. No one noticed the glances.

He thought perhaps he was stunted from his years at Azkaban. He had died at 21 and had been reborn at 32, but in his head, he was 21. But she was still 14, and it was still wrong. But she reminded him of James' impishness when she tore around the house, laughing at the top of her lungs. She reminded him of Remus' gentle rebukes when he tried to add firewhiskey in her cocoa. She reminded him of Lily, oh, Lily, who patted his head and told him that he was destined for great things if he would just grow up a little and realise who he really was.

Perhaps Ginny was Lily and James' gift to him, a reminder of what they had been.

He watched her walk up the stairs to her room. She turned around and blew him a kiss in the darkness, and he mimed to grab it. soon, he would walk up after her, crawl into his own bed, and wait for her to come to him, for her to sit on his bed. Sirius, tell me a story about the time when....

And he would tell her one, and she'd laugh, and she'd sit on his feet and draw lazy circles on his legs. And he'd clench his teeth and remind himself that three years was worth the wait, that she was worth the weight, and damn the fact that he knew she wanted it too. He would wait.

And so would she. Three years was nothing compared to Azkaban.

He climbed the stairs into his room, got into his nightclothes, and lay in his bed, waiting. Small footsteps announced her arrival, and she wandered into his bed, but chose to lay beside him.

Sirius? Tell me what you want to be when you grow up.

He smiled, and started to weave a rambling tale.

I want to be you, Ginny. I want to be part of you. But I'll wait.