[ 102 ] the art of intimacy

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𝗔𝗖𝗧 𝗜𝗜𝗜 ━━ 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗙𝗜𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛 𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘
102. the art of intimacy 


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BRIDGET HOUSE
november to february, 1979 — 1980


          𝗦𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗨𝗦 𝗚𝗥𝗘𝗪 𝗜𝗡𝗖𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗟𝗬 𝗖𝗥𝗨𝗘𝗟. 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧 𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗗𝗦 𝗕𝗢𝗥𝗘 𝗜𝗡𝗦𝗨𝗟𝗧𝗦, it was the way he delivered them. Scarlet would often return home finding him drenched in a pool of alcohol, passed-out on the floor. He would throw away all the meals she would prepare — 'lost my appetite' he would try justifying the next day.

      Scarlet didn't say anything.

      Most of the time, after long shifts, she would return home when the clock was nearing midnight—and would spend hours trying to get him to clean up. Helping his tipsy body up the stairs, taking him to shower, helping him change.

      His eyes would be encapsulated with rage when she would try taking care of him. It made him feel like a sick patient rather than a mourning brother, he did not need taking care of.

      It was the looks he would give her which hurt—the way he would harshly shove her hand away or look past her in the corridors as though she was nothing but a phantom in the house. As though she did not exist. One week after the news was delivered, he started to sleep on the living room's couch instead of sharing a bed with her.

      Scarlet didn't say anything.

      He would stare her down in a way that made her feel stupid for ever allowing her heart to soften in order to love him. As though it had been a waste.

      She understood. Of course, she understood—grieving Regulus was not the only reason why Sirius had been so easily brutal towards her, it was the fact that she crushed his hope when she mentioned she did not want kids. It had to be that, right? How else could someone be so casually cruel? It was as though hurting her was as easy as breathing for him, as though he wanted to punish her— no, no, that was incorrect. Scarlet should not be thinking lowly of him whilst he is grieving. 

      The days feel shorter and the nights come quicker—it was a boring, miserable routine for Scarlet. Attending office, sometimes attending Death Eater's meetings and gathering information to pass to Dumbledore, coming back home and desperately praying that night would be different only for Sirius to pay no attention to the dinner she brought home, often discarding his part into the bin.

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