Chapter 4
Tommy turned to Sirius, subconsciously leaning away from the man. Dumbledore seemed to emanate a thick blanket of calm, but something about Sirius was off. He seemed to be relatively cheerful, borderline trustworthy, but his eyes had seen something akin to Tommy's. The blonde did not want to trust anyone in this place, but something was pushing him to and he hated it. Maybe it was because he'd finally found some people who were a whole hell of a lot saner and less traumatized than everyone in that godforsaken SMP, or maybe it was the Calming Draught. Probably the latter.
Sirius sidled around Tommy and padded over to the couch. He sunk into its olive cushions, leaning into the armrest. "Tommy. You don't have any belongings with you?" Tommy shook his head and shuffled through the room, sitting warily on the other side of the man. He pressed his foot into the carpet and a small cloud of dust billowed around his shoe. Sirius raised his eyebrows. "What's your opinion on cleaning?" The younger shrugged. "Don't mind it, I guess." Sirius sat up, eyeing Tommy. "We've got a lot of work to do. This place is a rubbish pile." Tommy nodded slowly. "I've seen worse, but it could-"
His mind's focus flashed to the blackened ruins of Logstedshire.
"It could...use some help, I think. All I've got to do is study, but that's boring anyways." Sirius smiled at that. "It gets dull here doing nothing all day, but it's better than being in prison, hm?" Tommy nodded. "Much better, I'd say. It was...wasn't- pretend- just pretend I said nothing?" Mild concern flashed through Sirius' eyes, but the blonde took no notice. "Are we really the only ones here?"
"Merlin, no. Of course not. Others come here, plenty of them. Most of them have things to do, with the Tournament ending how it did, but- did Dumbledore tell you about the Order of the Phoenix?" Tommy looked down at the couch, picking absentmindedly at one of the buttons. "Saw it on the paper he gave me. He said I've been in St. Mungo's for the past two days. Something about a Cruciatus Curse, and I apparated as a response to the pain- I'm a Muggle-born, and awfully late to learn about my magic. Quite a bit to take in, innit?" Sirius' eyebrows furrowed. "The Cruciatus Curse..? You can't be any older than seventeen."
"I'm fifteen. No- sixteen." The man's eyes pooled with worry. "And someone performed that on you?" Tommy nodded slowly, narrowing his eyes. Sirius' eyes seemed to glaze over, sealing with some kind of faraway stare before they snapped back to meet Tommy's. "You said you were a late bloomer?" Tommy nodded stiffly. "Dumbledore said I'm going to Hogwarts, but I have to study a fuck-ton to make it in. Never went to school before, but my-" His breath hitched. "-someone I know. Someone I know taught me how to read...I can't write very well, but I was never good at that anyways. It's all sloppy when I try- damn these fucking shaky hands." He let out a breathy half-hearted laugh and Sirius laughed with him, nodding in understanding. "My mother used to pace about this room after trying to help me write- then go on one of her rants about how vile and disgusting Muggle-borns were, of course."
Tommy released the button and it snapped back into the couch. "Muggle-borns? I'm one of those." Sirius nodded slowly. "Yes...but it won't be a problem where you're going." The blonde returned to picking at the button. "I can hold my own in a fight. Fistfights aren't very common where I'm from. We use swords, most times." Tommy held up his hands, smiling, and flexed them. Dull light splayed across the backs of his hands, and Sirius' eyes widened and flicked across his scar-littered skin. He glanced down at his own hands before meeting Tommy's eyes again. "Are those all from weapons- swords?" The blonde nodded fondly. "Most of them." Sirius leaned forwards and pressed his palms into a cushion. "Don't you think you're a bit young for-"
"Nah, big man. I've been through worse, and it doesn't bother me- I think they're cool. Most of 'em are from fighting wars and such, it's a bit nostalgic." At that, Sirius stood up, towering over the blonde. "You fought in- where are you even from?" Tommy shrugged. "Nowhere, really. I've had homes before, but they all kind of-" He flicked his hands upwards, emulating an explosion-like sound. "Gone. So I'm from nowhere. Prime, that's what Charlie said, too." Sirius' eyes filled with pity, again, and Tommy's gaze hardened. "There's nothing wrong about it."
Sirius sighed lightly, flopping onto the couch and standing up again as if the rebound had thrown him back off of it. "Your room. I haven't shown you to it, and it's just-" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "It's too late for this." Tommy stood up as Sirius walked by and followed behind at arm's length. He eyed the dark velvety curtains hung heavily above a strange nightstand down on the ground floor, but waved it off as the two climbed the stairs, stopping at the second landing. Tommy purposefully averted his eyes from the balcony. Sirius pointed at the second door on his left. "That room is covered in a nice layer of dust and I believe doxies are living in those curtains too, so you sleep in this room-" He gestured to the first door on his left. "-until we clean out that one."
Tommy nodded and walked forwards to the door, stopping as his hand touched the knob. "Dumbledore said I need to go to a place- uh...Diagon Alley. Said to go with...an aura. Do you have that around here somewhere?" Sirius blinked. "Do you mean Auror?" Tommy smiled lightly. "Yeah, those. He said I hafta get books and things so I can go to school..." He faked a gagging motion and pushed open the door, unfazed by the smell that greeted him in a huge invisible cloud. "That smell means home sweet home, I guess. Home home. Hah- better than charred flesh, but still nasty, innit?" He turned back to meet Sirius' face.
Sirius' face, painted with unconcealable horror.
"Tommy- where the hell did you live before..." He paused, setting his jaw in irritation. "Nowhere. Nowhere, of course."
Tommy nodded proudly. "You got that right, big man. Real poggers house you've got here, by the way. Never seen anything like it. Not even in- ah- well, I guess that's goodnight, so- sleep well, Sirius!!" With that, he slammed the door in the Animagus' face and slid down its wooden frame, burying his head in his hands.
Low buildings rooted to the ground in defiance, standing heavy against the sky and anything that dare oppose their beautiful country.
Two children, hand in hand, skipping down a dirt-packed path.
Two children, both oblivious to the mess one would put them into.
Black, yellow, black, yellow.
A green-rimmed fist.
And as Tommy was all too familiar with, he hardly slept that night. He didn't have much to think of, but it still kept him up. Much, much later, his head slumped forwards and his eyes drifted closed, arms still propped up on his knees.