Cigarette Burns - Sirius Black

Ch 58: The Simple Conversations

The Weasley's temporarily moved into Grimmauld Place once again as the Burrow was being reconstructed. Everyone was on edge, the stress of rebuilding together becoming too much with no space to heal.

Sirius's words kept replaying in her mind, no matter how hard she tried to focus on something else it was the way his eyes bore into hers, how he told her to leave, it made her want to pull her hair and scream. Owen noticed the shift from Morrigan, sensing that something was troubling her. However, he believed it to be the destruction of the burrow, the invasion of death eaters into a property that everyone once thought to be safe. Her favorite holiday tarnished once more. 

He couldn't figure out a way to sympathize with her though, only knowing so much about the wizarding world. Morrigan was good at keeping her secrets too, that also troubled him, he knew that she was keeping things from him, but he had no idea what it could be. 

In Grimmauld Place Hermione and Ron were at each other's throats. Harry was sick of being caught in the middle yet had no reprieve as Ginny wrote to her boyfriend. Arthur and Molly were burdened with the stress of rebuilding the Burrow with limited funds. And Sirius locked himself in his room contemplating his small moment with Morrigan. 

Everyone was beginning to understand that there was little comfort in times of war. 

Morrigan knocked on the door of Grimmauld Place, waiting patiently for someone to answer the door. Ron pulled it open looking at her slightly confused, "You realise you could walk in right?" 

"It's not that simple anymore," Morrigan said under her breath entering the home. She could feel everyone's heightened frustrations around her and she sighed letting out a breath she was holding. 

Molly spotted her from the corner of her eye and looked at her in shock, "Morrigan! What in Godric's name are you doing here?" 

"I've come to help," she admitted, "I can't imagine what you're all going through and well... your kids can be rather difficult at the best of times." 

"Believe me, I know," Molly muttered brushing her hands on the small half apron she wore. She looked around the house knowing that while she wanted to turn away Morrigan's help, she desperately needed it. "Would you mind cooking for everyone? I need to go and help Bill and Arthur with the house." 

"No worries Molly," Morrigan smiled, waving her off as she left Grimmauld place. 

Morrigan smiled as she saw the stereo and that smile only grew when she saw her favorite album was still in. She turned it on and began preparing the meal, a wave of nostalgia hitting her as she cooked. 

She hummed alone happily to Guns n' Roses, singing and swaying her hips with the occasional in tune nod as she added vegetables into pots and mixed cake batter. A certain sadness hit when she went to ask Kreacher for some help, but she quickly refocused on her task, knowing that things weren't the same. 

Sirius hummed along to the familiar song not realizing that he was wearing a grin as he did so. It wasn't until halfway through that his brows furrowed. He hadn't heard that song since Morrigan left Grimmauld Place. No one had bothered to play the album that sat in the stereo, and while it took up space in the kitchen, he refused to rid the house of it, hoping that one day it will play the muggle band once more. 

He left his room following the sound of the music, making sure he took quiet steps while he investigated why the stereo was playing. In the back of his mind he kept reminding himself that it could have been Harry or Hermione who decided to play some music in the kitchen for a change. That he shouldn't get his hopes up. 

However, as he walked towards the kitchen he saw a flash of grey hair and a familiar melodic voice filled the air. He leant against the doorframe watching her as she danced happily to the music in the room. Her grey hair bouncing with every movement she made, he could picture the face she was making as well, her eyes partially closed as she pretended the spoon was a microphone, her red painted lips singing the words softly.