CHAPTER TWENTY

A TOKEN OF CARING

✧

OF ALL THE PEOPLE SHE EXPECTED TO JOIN HER WHILE SHE STUDIED, SIRIUS BLACK WAS NEAR THE BACK OF THE LIST. Well, he really wouldn't even be on the list if she were to make one, because she didn't consider him someone who would even want to study with her in the first place or go up to her table. Especially now. Maybe in previous years for a little mischief, maybe at the beginning of the year because of Remus, but now...now there was absolutely no reason to.

         She burned that already loose bridge, yet there he was. Before her, sitting down, and giving her a look. Not a crooked grin, or the one with the mischievous eye, but darker. Deeper. Solemn. Intense. Staring into her soul and searching into it.

         She decided that she didn't like it, so she wasn't going to look at him. Her DADA homework wasn't particularly interesting, it really wasn't her class at all, and absent mindedly doodling roses in the margin of her textbook was the only thing keeping her sane while she tried to do her work.

         He sat, staring, not taking out a book or parchment of her own and it was beginning to make her uncomfortable. Many moments had passed and she had yet to welcome him or for him to state his business, and it was silent. Completely silent. And not the nice silence, not the productive one either, but the still one. The creepy one that keeps mumbling in your ear that it's awkward.

         "Are you going to continuing looking at me or actually say something?" Morgan finally spoke up in a clipped voice. She didn't spare him another glance as she finished off doodling, trying in vain to comprehend the words in her book.

         Sirius blinked, shaking his head and finally glancing away then back at her. "You're fucking with him," he stated, in a low voice she didn't know he was capable of. Always so loud, so careless. "I don't know why, but you're fucking with him."

         Morgan almost flinched. She swallowed down the guilt bubbling up in her throat, swallowed the desire to lash out and attack him because that was easy. One swift word and she could get him away from her and out of her business. But it wasn't right. She might be cold, but she wasn't callous.

         (Morgan Lee would not be a Greek tragedy.)

         "And you think staring at me like a creep will tell you?" she asked him, her eyes meeting his again.

         Sirius always spoke with his eyes. They were the windows of his soul, showing the anger and the confusion, the protective nature, the need to understand. Morgan didn't let her eyes tell all. That was a dangerous trait, and the light in her eyes had been burned out long ago. The face – every part of it – had to be stone. So, she was stone.

         He didn't say anything, and they held each other's gazes. His eyes moved around, searching her – her hair, her eyes, her cheeks, her lips. Searching for a twitch or a break so that he could understand her. The silence felt purposeful now.

         "You're so calm," he concluded once he realized that his search was fruitless, "You sit here and you're calm."

         "Am I supposed to be in a frenzy?"

         It was deflecting. They danced around the main issue, what he wanted to know and what she refused to give up. Her shoulder throbbed and her mind spiraled for a second. Venom filled her, but then it was sucked out again by the prick of a rose.

         "You're supposed to care," Sirius shook his head, and he looked so helpless for a second, like he expected more from her yet had nothing now.

         Her eyes flickered down and her shoulders tensed the tiniest bit. It was so subtle it almost didn't happen at all. Caring. What a word, what an act. It made her want to laugh and scream. Of course she cared! Couldn't he see that? If she didn't care, she wouldn't have gone to Remus after. If she didn't care, she wouldn't be looking for some atonement from her actions.

         Caring seemed so obvious to her when she looked in the mirror and her eyes were puffy from crying and her whole body ached but she just didn't know which aches were real and which ones she created. It was a buried feeling, though, because caring gave you a grave so she killed it off first.

         The shell never told the story of the inside.

         She slammed her book shut, louder than anything else in the library, and Sirius jolted a little. "Of course I care. Just because it doesn't exist in my eyes or my lips doesn't mean it's not there."

         "That's not what I meant –"

         "Really?" it was low. Everything was low. It was deep. The cuts were always deep. "You expect me to be hysteric, you want me to reek with remorse, but that's not me. I apologized for my actions, and that was sincere, and I have not bothered him again. I said my piece, he has it, and I have allowed me to forgive myself. If Remus wants more, we can talk, but I do care. Everything I've ever done is because I care."

         And he didn't understand, how could he? She spoke of something more than venomous words and apologies, she spoke of something more than Remus Lupin and school. She spoke of life and death, she spoke of threats and throbbing shoulders, she spoke of Alistair standing over her. Victorious and large, intimidating and taking. She spoke of fear – her fear – and how freezing it could be.

         But her cares went beyond this school and this instance. Her cares came from wanting to live, wanting to prevail, and wanting to protect. And sometimes caring meant hurting others, though the guilt still settled in her heart.

         "Do you think he can forgive you?" Sirius asked, staring intently at her, moving away from her comment. It was for the best, in the end.

         "Shouldn't it be me asking you that?" she deflected, because that was this conversation. That was the foundation of everything. Instead of focusing on the issue, move away from it until it's forgotten.

         "But you didn't, and I am. What do you want from him?"

         Her mouth was shut, and she dared not open it. Because, at the end of the day, she didn't know what she wanted. For the guilt to go away, maybe. For the knowledge that deep down she was still a good person, perhaps. For someone to look at her again like she was soft and beautiful...

         For something simple. For teenage life and romanticism away from reality and the darkness that was slowly creeping in. For a distraction from the outside world. For the way he looked at her, for the way he cared, for the way he pushed past her layers and looked at her like she meant something simply for existing rather than for her deeds.

         That was all built on the expectation that he forgave her, really forgave her, and he could stand to look at her again. That was all built on before, when she was just a snappish silly girl who wanted to ruin a marriage to play hero. Morgan was done playing hero, though, and she wasn't just some silly little girl anymore.

         The world was forcing her to grow up before her time, but Remus still belonged to the past. He could've been a silly little girl's fantasy, and maybe she wanted that. Maybe she just craved some form of redemption for what she was hiding now.

         "I don't know," and it was the first true admittance of the night, not veiled in something bigger, not alluding to something greater than either of them. It was simple. Three words with no strings attached. "I apologized because it was the right thing to do and he deserved it. I never asked for anything more than his time."

         (Unspoken, there was the whispers: forgive me, forgive me, pull me out of the darkness. Redeem me. Save me. Bring me back to the light.)

         Sirius slit his eyes until they were almost shut, staring at her searching for a lie. Part of her almost wanted to be offended, but she brushed it off. And then, he sighed.

         "I've done shit worse than you to Remus. He forgave me, but I worked towards it. I earned his forgiveness. I don't know why you lashed out at him or what you said that hurt him, but I do know that you're being sincere. If you want him to forgive you, show him that you've changed and be better. That's all I can offer you."

         He stood up before she could react, leaving her alone. She blinked, shook her head, and let out a sigh. She didn't understand him, that Sirius Black, and in a similar fashion she understood him all too well.

✧

         ANDERSON'S PRESENCE DIDN'T disturb her as much anymore. Before, she would've gagged at the idea of purposefully seeking him out and having a conversation with him. But before, he would've had too many lewd remarks and suggestions that made her want to stab out her eyes.

         But now, now, it was only a mild annoyance from time to time. For the most part, he was tolerable enough, and he turned down the remarks and was actually a decent conversation. He teased her about the flower, asking if she kept it, and she would lie and say the first thing she did with it was throw it in the bin.

         (It looked ethereal on her bedside table.)

         Anderson had DADA after lunch, which she only knew because she made a point of avoiding any place near the classroom after so that she wouldn't be caught up in a conversation with him. She leaned against the wall, watching her peers leave the class until the familiar high hair and red robes emerged.

         She tagged along behind him before managing to catch up beside him, not seeing his eyes go to her and a smile spread across his cheeks. "Morgan! My favorite lady!"

         She rolled her eyes, not letting the supposed compliment get to her. He always would be just annoying enough. "How did you make the rose?"

         "And not a greeting back. Why am I surprised?" he joked, laughing to himself even though she didn't find the question funny in the slightest.

         "The rose, Anderson," she insisted upon, her head turning to him so that she could give him a stern look.

         "I thought you got rid of it, why would you want to know the enchantment to make it?" he asked, and she couldn't stop a small blush from rising to her cheeks.

         "It doesn't matter. Will you tell me or not?"

         "Well, can't a little birdy be curious as to why you're inquiring? Maybe I'll keep it to myself if you don't feel like sharing?" a half-grin appeared across his lips, and a look of mischief caught his eyes.

         She scoffed. "I don't have to tell you why I want the charm."

         "And I don't have to give it to you."

         She seethed for a second in her silence, but he didn't crack, and finally sighed. "Fine," she admitted defeat, "As a gift. I want to give someone a rose as a gift but roses aren't that easy to come by around here, so I want the enchantment. Now, can I have it?"

         "You're always so pushy. It's alright to take things slow and enjoy the ride," Anderson told her instead of answering, but Morgan didn't have time for more small chat.

         "Anderson."

         "Morgan."

         "Give me the damn spell. I told you what you wanted."

         He gave her a wink in lieu of an answer, and after a moment, told her exactly what she wanted. The charm was fairly easy and soon she had her own created sparkling rose. It was almost as beautiful as her own, and it would do. She thought about a note to go with it, but no words seemed to capture the essence of the rose.

         And then she began to doubt it to begin with. To her, it was special. It represented something more; a fresh beginning, a path towards forgiveness, but would he see the same thing? Or would he think it dumb? Could he understand something he had no context to go with?

         No. A rose was a start; it wasn't everything.

         At her desk in Potions, there was a clear divide in between her and Remus. Their parchment and quill never came close to the other, and her areas stayed their own. There was no possibility of their arms touching either. And it was silent between them, worse than that of strangers. She desperately wanted to call out, to say something, but he didn't want to speak a word to her, so she respected it.

         And at the end of class, it was no Remus standing up abruptly, it was her. He was distracted by his friends across the room, and then she was gone. When he looked back, there was no sign of Morgan, as if she was never there to begin with, but a rose was on his textbook that wasn't there before. Then a note:

         Thank you for your kindness. I didn't deserve it.