minnow // sirius black

twelve

The butterflies in my stomach eased just a bit when I walked into the dining room, and nobody stopped mid-sentence, or in the middle of a bite to stare. Lily still stuffed a massive fork-full of food into her mouth, and Remus still took a drink of whatever Dad had given him. Dad finished his sentence about garlic, while Mum still rolled her eyes, having heard it a hundred times. Sirius still snorted at Mum rolling her eyes.

They did look at me, though, but only after I had made it to the table.

"You can sit next to me," Lily said, looking at James. When she looked at me, I raised an eyebrow, causing Lily to blush. "Either of you."

I rolled my eyes a little bit, going to the other side of the table and sitting between Sirius and Remus. The table sat 8 with the plank that made the table longer, so Mum and Dad sat at each end, with three chairs on the side. Sirius sat to Mum's left, across from Lily. Remus had sat on the same side as Sirius, just next to my Dad. James and I were in the middle, with an empty chair next to James.

I weakly smiled at Sirius, the smallest bubble of embarrassment growing in my stomach. I knew my cheeks were as red as my nightgown, so I turned away, letting my hair be a curtain between us.

Despite not having an appetite, I lifted my fork and used the side to cut a piece of the lasagna. I stabbed it with the fork.

I knew that I looked pathetic, but everyone was minding their own business, Lily talking to Mum about gardening, James and Remus talking to Dad about the Christmas lights. Everyone but Sirius, who was eating his own lasagna quietly, glancing at me every few moments.

As I lifted the fork to my mouth, Sirius looked at me again, and my hand began shaking, so I gently set my hand back down onto the table. I set the fork, with lasagna still on the end, on the edge of the plate.

After a moment, I tried again, this time taking a tiny bite, before deciding that I really did not want it, and setting the fork back into the same position. I took a little sip of the water that was in the cup in front of me, and put both of my hands in my lap.

I pulled the sleeves of my nightgown down further, so there was more lace covering my hands. I started playing with the lace, my chin tucked against my chest, and my hair shielding my face from everyone except James.

I felt him gently kick my from under the table, and glanced up at him. He was raising an eyebrow, so I gently shrugged.

I looked back at my hands.

The table slowly fell silent, and I could feel my face turning redder. I didn't look up.

"Jemmy? Are you alright?"

I nodded softly at Mum.

"Are you going to eat?" I shook my head, just a tiny bit.

"Why not?" Dad asked, his voice level and gentle. I looked up at him, tears pooling in my eyes.

"I don't think I like lasagna," I choked out. Dad's face morphed into one of sympathy.

"Then don't eat it," He said softly. "Do you want anything else?"

I shook my head. "I'm not hungry."

"Are you sure?"

"I lost my appetite when I saw my room," I whispered, looking at the lasagna, a couple tears escaping. It was a wonderful lasagna, but looking at it made my stomach churn. I loved lasagna as a child. It tasted like blood now.

"Jemina -"

"You could've warned her," James whispered, interrupting Mum. "I thought she knew, so when she went to open her door, with this giant smile, I felt my stomach churn. She had no idea."

"I didn't think to, James," Mum said, furrowing her brows. "I'm sorry, Jem."

I shook my head. "It doesn't matter. My bedding is ruined, and half of my room is stained."

"There's blood on her picture with Sirius, too," James said quietly. I felt Sirius' knee bump mine, and I glanced at him. His eyebrows were furrowed too, and I looked away,

"Sorry," I mumbled, slowly pushing the chair back from the table, standing. "I'm tired."

Nobody followed me, and I didn't go into my room.

I went up to the attic, which was an entire area for James and I to hang out. There was two chairs, a bean bag, and an old sofa that I didn't want my parents to throw out. This was my neutral zone, one of few places that I didn't mind if it was messy. There were old magazines in a sloppy pile in one corner, a messy bookshelf in another with children's books. There was an old radio and cassette player, and a box TV that James and I had begged for when we were 9 so we could watch the Moon landing.

Dad had grinned when they stepped onto the Moon, even though he'd been complaining that it was the United States, and not the UK. James had declared that one day, no matter if he was 60, or 200 years old, he wanted to go to the Moon.

"You do that, James, and I will come and give you a big, big hug when you come back. And I will come over every night and cook whatever you want for dinner for an entire month!" Dad had said, grinning while Mum laughed. James' face lit up, before it fell.

"You won't be cooking for me anyway?"

It had been a wonderful night, and Mum and Dad had laughed hard enough to cry. That was around the time that Dad realized that I would need to cook for James, or he'd likely starve.

I laid down on the sofa, closing my eyes tightly, and trying to get the memory of the night we went to St. Mungo's out of my mind.

All I could hear was my screaming, and all I could feel was my lungs burning.

Eventually, I fell asleep.