Insomniacs and Storms

She was an insomniac. It was part of the Black curse, she often thought.

Andromeda Black roamed her aunt's home in silence. The house elves were somehow distant this night, as was the rest of the family. That was well enough, she didn't need them around. Just herself, and the night, and the storm that was building outside.

She loved storms. The crackle of electricity in the air, the feeling of energy, of power. It was akin to knowing that a spell would work even before she lifted her wand and cast the incantation. As though the thought had spawned it, she could see lightning split the sky through a distant window, lending the darkness some light.

Moments later, the thunder cracked in its wake, shaking the house. She heard something like a whimper then, and frowned. She knew that voice, knew it well. It was the only member of this Merlin forsaken family that she cared to spend any time around, after all, especially as her own sisters had been twined around each other for as long as she could remember. She was never invited to join, and would have spurned those invitations had she received them.

So she climbed the flight of stairs to Sirius' hideaway, and found his form sitting by the window in silhouette, eyes scanning the skies. She stood there for a moment, watching him as he did so. Then there was another strike of lightning, and his eyes flew to the doorway where she stood, his blue eyes pale in his face.

"Meda?" he asked.

She nodded before the illumination was gone, and he flew from the window seat to her side as darkness fell once more. As they made their way toward the expansive bed he had been given to sleep in, so distant from the family that abhorred him so very much, it struck her that she found the company of her young cousin so much easier to bear than that of her own sisters.

"What's wrong, Sirius?"

"It bothers me when it storms like this," he admitted quietly, as though it were something shameful to admit. "It was supposed to be full moon tonight, and I can't see it."

"Why does that bother you?"

"It's comfort when little else is."

Here, it seemed that young Sirius was dropping the mask that allowed him to function in the Black family, in front of parents who always seemed to disapprove, and a brother who constantly seemed to sneer. Andromeda couldn't remember the last time her aunt or uncle had said anything kind or complimentary to anyone, much less their own children, and Sirius had told her the last time they had visited that he often thought Regulus had been born with that sneer on his face.

Somehow, she didn't doubt him.

"What else comforts you?"

"Learning things other don't know," he told her, an almost superior twist to his voice. "I don't hold by your books, Meda, you know that, but I have my own ways of learning. I think I can use it against them, if they don't know I know it, and they catch me in just the right moment. Knowing this house better than anyone but the House Elves."

Then an almost barklike laugh erupted from him, almost as sharp as the crack of thunder following the lightning. She arched her eyebrows, waiting for Sirius to explain himself, and it didn't take long.

"I know the house better than some of the House Elves. Better certainly than Kreacher, but he never even tries."

In his tone, the 'he' referencing Kreacher sounded more like 'it', and with how often that particular House Elf was used by her aunt to torment him, it didn't come as a surprise.

"Anything else?"

"Well," and he bit down on his lip for a moment, then continued, "actually yes, there is one other thing. When the time of year is proper and it's clear enough to be seen, I use Orion to find my star. I wouldn't use it for any other purpose, after all."

"Of course not," she chuckled. "After all, Bella's name was drawn from the Hunter, as was your brother's, so why would you?"

"Precisely my point," he told her, then asked, "How much do you know about my star, anyway?"

"What makes you think I know anything about it?" she grinned.

"Well, he said, "you are a second year Ravenclaw at Hogwarts, are you not?"

"That means nothing."

"I hear you have to take Astronomy. You told me so, in one of the letters you sent. As I am stuck here at home with none but the House Elves and my family--" his tone made it sound like he was cursing, "for company, I would know nothing about it."

"There are books..."

"I have little use for books," he said, and was scathing again. "I learn by doing. You know that."

"Your star, as you put it, is not one star at all."

"What are you talking about? Of course it's a star."

"I did not say it wasn't," she told him and tapped him on the nose when he started to retort again. "I just said it wasn't one star."

"What is it, then?"

"It's two. A binary system, always revolving around the other. There's Sirius A, the bright, brilliant brash star you can locate in the night sky, and his silent, but important counterpart. For you see, Sirius A would not be itself without Sirius B."

"You aren't trying to weave this into another of your love tales, are you, Andromeda?"

"You could think of it like that, if you wish," she said, then smiled. "It is rather like a love story, is it not? The love story of Sirius A and Sirius B. for one cannot survive long without the other at its side."

"It does sound sort of romantic, when you put it like that. Not that I would know or even care of anything such as that."

"Of course not," she smirked. "You're a boy, after all. A wizardling, as Mum puts it. You would care not about such things."

He snorted at that. She chuckled, as much at his reaction as anything else.

"So you're suggesting I'm Sirius A, and that's why they named me that?"

"I suggest nothing. You're the one making such wild claims. Are you brash, Sirius? Or are you the quiet one," and her tone turned mocking, for she knew better. "Are you the one who knows when to keep his mouth shut?"

He snorted again.

"Good. I wouldn't like to smack sense into your head again like I did the last time you got such ideas. Delusions of grandeur, dear cousin. That's all they are."

He tried to push her off the bed, then, and she laughed, dodging him before getting off the bed herself and standing there as he lay down, his feet mere centimetres from the end of the bed. She smiled; his legs were already so long, and sometimes he despaired that he'd ever grow into them at all.

"Think you can sleep now?"

"Aye," he murmured quietly, his eyes drifting closed. "The storm is ending."

"And everything will be fine in the morning," she told him as she leaned over to ruffle his hair. He made a disgruntled noise, but didn't do anything against her, so she headed for the door.

"Meda?" his voice stopped her as she was about to step out into the hallway.

She turned and looked at him again, eyebrows arched, "Yes, Sirius?"

"Do you think I'll find that other person?"

"What? The quiet, complimentary one to your loud brashness? I don't know. I hope so, because I hear such things make the world brighter. Still, not for a while, I think, for either of us. We have to contend with the family's wishes for a time, at least, and then maybe. Maybe."

"Only maybe."

"Yes," she nodded.

Then she walked away to find her own bed, and it didn't take long for her to fall asleep. Whatever was for the morrow, it would take care of itself. Even Sirius, and the wild tale she had told him. Still, as she drifted off, she couldn't shake the feeling that it might have been such a wild tale after all.