Supposed to Feel Like Home

It felt weird.

Albus had a home to himself. Lily didn't remember Albus as an independent adult, but as her moody brother. She knew in the scheme of things, she had not been gone terribly long. But even during the summers and breaks, she had stayed with Uncle Charlie and Aunt Mel, or with James. But Albus had never seemed to concerned about where she was supposed to be, or who she was staying with, or where or why. Not that he was a bad brother or anything, but neither she nor him were the type to hold to their connections, or seek closeness with people - and this was especially true in regards to family.

Still. Now that Lily had nowhere to go - James was too busy and she hated to be a burden to her aunts and uncles - Albus' home was the only place. She had asked, of course, as soon as she heard word that she needed to move back to Britain, and had received a curt response that she could indeed stay with him during breaks and summer. It was not a warm welcome, and she was not expecting much warmer when she actually arrived. Still, she knew it would be strange, leaving Salem, which was full of loved ones and relative support, for a place among her family which would feel so much colder and so much stranger.

It would be weird.

She had dropped Casey off at her home and spent the morning eating breakfast with her aunt and uncle and cousin Sawyer, before swearing to them all she would get to her brother's place just fine without them. So she gathered her trunk, shoulder her backpack, and apparated to the address she had been given.

She walked up the drive and stopped at the doorstep, dropping the trunk and letting the backpack slide down to the crook of her arm as she stared at the door. What if... she just didn't go in? What if she just apparated to the school and stayed with friends... after she made friends? What if she dug into her inheritance early and bought her own place to call home? Because she knew she was just going to be disappointed.

She tapped the doorbell and waited, ready to see her brother.

There was only one hour left to eleven, when Albus had remembered that Lily was going to be coming home.

He had stilled for a second, staring into space, eyelids still weighing down on him blearily. The shock filtered in for another second: him, Albus Potter, who had never forgotten a single birthday, who remembered that Victoire loved coffee, and Roxanne liked her Quidditch pages early in the morning, and sent Aunt Audrey her favourite records of Muggle music every Christmas till he was sixteen. Him, Albus Potter, who had been the first to hold Lily, even before James; staring in awe at that chubby face, that wispy tuft of black hair, those bright eyes; warmth blooming in his stomach every time she clutched at his thumb, or pouted plaintively and called "Al-by, phood." Him, Albus Potter who had thrown a ridiculous tantrum inside his head and had remained scowling the entire evening, when Lily had insisted on being taught flying by her eldest brother. Now that little sister was here to stay, with him. Not James, not Sawyer. And he forgot.

There was nothing to clean up, his house was always clean. There simply weren't enough things in it for it to get cluttered. He set to breakfast- pancakes, bacon, a side of fresh greens. Searched for the jar of black maple syrup for a solid twenty minutes, then stopped, jaw muscles tightening, muttered a curse then Accio'd it. Hesitated, then threw two eggs into the pan, extra cheese in the second. Put a vessel of water to boil, started reaching out for the tea leaves before he stopped again.

He....didn't quite recall what Lily had liked for a morning brew. She had just.....always been so young, and somehow all that he could remember was her seven-year old voice pleading with their mother for raspberry tea. Of course she didn't want that now. Maybe coffee....it was what they mostly had in America.

His hand hovered in mid air for a moment, before tightening and falling back to his side. Levitated all the dishes to the dining table, being careful not to drop or bump anything. Took out a chilled Coke can from the fridge, and pushed it by the first plate. It was a ridiculous combination for breakfast, but Lily had always liked the eccentric mashups as a kid. Maybe she would remember how addicted he had always been to the drink- and he squashed that thought at the back of his head, before it could fully form.

Stood in the room, motionless, looking at the bright, varied spread. It smelt nice. Albus thought of smiling, if only for a second.

Then the door-bell rang.

It was too long, and too fast: the minute between the time it rang, and the time his hand wrapped around the doorknob, pulling the door open. He didn't recognize the pale, gangly, dark-haired girl standing on his doorstep.

"Lily." Albus said, perhaps for the sake of saying something. He should tell her how much he missed her. "Let me get your trunk."

A hug maybe, or a kiss on the forehead was in order. Or, atleast a pat on the shoulder. He bent, hand fastening around the trunk-hold and turned around, walking inside.

Lily did not wait too long, and yet, it was so prompt that it did not give her much time to get excited to see Albus. Just as butterflies began to build in her stomach, the door opened, and she came face to face with her brother. He did not look terribly different, but he did not seem very familiar either. Albus looked nothing like the few photographs she had of him. Yes, the slope of his nose was the same, and his eyebrows were just as long, and his hair was just as black, but he looked oddly nothing like the man in the photographs. James was the opposite - you could tell it was him from a hundred yards away, he just exuded something that was so his own. Albus, however, always seemed more like a shadow at the edge of your vision - always changing, never quite fully present.

Still, she was glad to see his face, for she could find familiar traces in it. The same color lips as James. Ears like hers. It was enough to remind her that she did have a place here and a purpose - even as distressed as she was to have a predetermined place in this world, it felt nice o know she was headed off somewhere that would not (should not) consider her a burden. It was nice to see her brother, was all. He said her name, and she let out some of tension out of her shoulders, before parting her lips, reading to call his name too.

Her trunk. Yes. She supposed that was what she needed the most right now. He turned his back on her, and all of the tension and irritation crept back into her. Yes. This was why this journey had not been an easy one for her, why she had not been racked with excitement to see her family again. If she had a normal, boring, family, it would have been different. But she had a detached, famous family, destined for so much. And that made them all either one of two things. Either they were thick as Hogwarts' walls, or they were giant, insufferable prats - like Albus was being right now.

She let out the smallest of sighs and walked into the home, turning around to close the door behind her. She held tight to her backpack - yeah, it was full, and it was heavy, but she liked the idea of keeping it close. She moved slowly in Albus' home. It was very uninviting, so clean and plain. She followed him, assuming he was planning on leading her to her room - where she would attempt to shut herself out. No major decorations, no knick-knacks, no pictures on the walls. She considered herself pretty estranged to the family, but even she had pictures and photographs of her family on her dormitory walls.

She said nothing. What did she have to say? She followed Albus, trailing behind - she could smell food.

His wrist was straining, tendons stretched, blue-ish veins standing out clear against the dry skin; even as the iron of the trunk squeaked in protest on being dragged across the floor. The trunk was quite heavy. And she had a backpack too. Small things, to carry your entire life in.

And yet, probably all of his life's belongings could be assimilated in a trunk half that size.

And if Albus thought on it, he could sell off another half of it without regrets. Things that he actually wanted to take along with him, keep by his side......were very little. Books from the Black library and others he had collected over the years....shrunk down. The Pensieve. His broom. His guitar.

If he wanted, he could sling a small carry-bag over his shoulders and dart out into the world and disappear, wherever he wanted. It was an addictive, liberating thought. And a hollow one.

His fingers uncurled from around the trunk-hold, it fell with a thud on the floor. A swish of his wand later, the trunk rose up against gravity and flew down the expanse of the large sitting room, out the doorway and through the small hallway to the door at its end. It slipped inside. He thought of sending the backpack too, but Lily was still clutching it protectively to her chest, as if loathe to let it go.

"Your room is at the end of the hallway. Bathroom attached. Mine is just above the stairs." His wand was hanging loosely in his palm, fingers barely holding on. Stiff and awkward: that's how his arms felt, like they couldn't quite decide what was the appropriate thing to do. Or rather, they knew exactly what to do. But after years of dissociation and those distinctive, small footsteps currently sounding through the floorboards; Albus couldn't put on the mask of smiling, affectionate brother right now. Maybe out of love for his sister. Maybe indifference.

"You can freshen up now, if you want to. Or...." His palm waved half-heartedly at the spread on the table, voice just the slightest bit conscious. "I have food. Dig in."

The corner of his vision then, caught on the instrument that had never quite left the room ever since....that breakfast. With her. The dark green-grey, almost black guitar stuck out like a sore thumb, propped as it was against the parchment-hued walls. The morning light glinted off the obsidian eyes of the serpent, coiled around the scaled body of the instrument. Strange, that a joke gift from his little sister could cause so much of conflicting emotions now.

He should have put it inside, before she came.

She followed, looking at the blank, boring walls. She considered herself pretty hollow, and yet her bedroom walls had been plastered in posters and pictures. Posters of rock bands, magical and muggle; of Quidditch teams, especially the Falcons, even though she was a Holyhead fan, because James had played for the Falcons; of her favorite films; promotional posters for events, poetry slams, dances, and book signings, all of which were stolen. And then all the extra space was covered with pictures. Even though her family was partially the bane of her existence, she still somehow enjoyed seeing their faces, watching them interact and poke and tease and laugh. She could enjoy the pictures because they weren't really her family, and she could be the Lily they had all expected and wanted her to be.

Albus had none of this. Did he really, really just not care? Was the family so unwelcome, that he did not even like the reminder of a picture? Had nothing happened to him that seemed worthy to hang on a wall? Not graduation? No friends? Girlfriends? Lily felt herself becoming less and less happy with this arrangement. She would stay out of her brother's way. Besides, she had school. She wouldn't see much of him. She would not be like the girls back in Salem who would leave every weekend to stay with family and enjoy the comforts of home. And when summer came around, she would stay busy. Christmas though... that was going to be weird. There was no way around that.

He directed her towards her room, and quickly pointed out his own. She nodded and said in a hollow, heavy voice, "Okay." What else was she supposed to say? Anything? She paused, holding her spot on the ground as she stared down the hall, unable to look at her brother who seemed so unable to look at her. This room would never feel like hers, she could almost guarantee that. She knew she was pretty much checking in a hotel - it would be formal, impersonal, and unwelcome. And the host was probably going to do very little to make her feel any more comfortable.

She loved her brother, really. But she also knew what he was like.

He gave her options but she found neither seemed better than the other. "I don't need to freshen up," she said, pausing to hear his answer. "And I ate breakfast at Uncle Charlie's." She remained unmoved by her indifference, and shifted the backpack, moving the burden of its weight from one shoulder to another. She took a deep breath in through her nose and slowly let it out through slightly parted lips. She had to try, because she doubted Albus would - not out of lack of love, but she wasn't sure he knew how.

"I'm thirsty though."

He wanted to move his feet. Shift them somehow, move the weight from one foot to another. Even wiggle a toe. But the lower limbs refused to cooperate, as if encased in ice. Others got fidgety, twitchy when they were anxious. He stiffened up.

He saw Lily's eyes darting about here and there like arrows, taking everything in. It was ridiculous how strong the urge was to smoothen the tablecloth. Or put that guitar out of way, it looked ludicrously out of place. Or straighten the curtains. Maybe he should have conjured a jug of dried flowers or something.

Albus registered the thought that had just passed through his head and resisted to urge to hit himself.

It wasn't as if he wanted to impress Lily or something as equally stupid, he reasoned. She was his little sister who, more importantly, he hadn't heard from in years. It was just that, after all these years........his family's judgments still pricked. And he could recognize the thoughts registering on her face like an open advertisement.

The reminder of old childhood resentments was unsettling.

The guitar winked at the corner of his sight again. Maybe it was time to wash the resentments out for good.

"And I ate at Uncle Charlie's."

"Of course you did." said Albus automatically. Then he stopped, and stood there, saying nothing. The bottle of maple syrup was still balanced unsteadily on the kitchenette counter. The breakfast spread was sending up spirals of steam and inviting fragrances up the air.

He raised his hand, wand slipping out of the holster in his arm, and jerked it mid-air. The counter and dining table were wiped clean. The room, earlier clean; now looked downright empty. The memory, of him sitting in the Burrow dining-room, watching Lily and James though the window swooping up and down on broomsticks, flashed through his mind again. He still remembered the sound of the laughter.

The Coke can was the lone thing on the table, fallen on its side, gleaming red surface catching the morning light. He moved forward, fingers curling over the icy surface, hoisting it upwards. He paused. Hand constricted briefly, squeezing the can in the process. Then his thumb flicked it open, and he drained a mouthful; throat swallowing around the bitter-sweet liquid, exhaling hard.

"Coffee and tea are in the kitchen. Juice and mineral water in the refrigerator. Take whatever you like." James or Fred would probably have appended a cheeky wink to the end of that and added, alcohol in the freezer.. He wasn't either of them.

Swallowing another draught of freezing liquid, his feet moved towards the staircase of their own accord, towards the direction of his room. Then his shoulders weakened and he turned around, eyes scoping over the pale, gangly girl standing in his flat again. He allowed himself to wonder for a second when she had grown so. Serious. Tall. Uneasy.

"Do you need anything else?"

Lily stood on the spot, swaying slightly as she stared blandly at Albus, waiting for him to do something (anything, really, would be nice) that would make this situation less… horrible. She took in a long, deep breath before expelling it. With that she lethargically reached her hand out and grabbed the chair closest to her, dragging it slowly towards her and away from the table. She circled around it and plopped into it, letting her backpack droop, before shaking it off her arm completely. She leaned over and slid it under the chair before placing her hands on the table, sighing again as she sucked in her lips and let them out in a silly fashion.

This was going to be terrible.

He had nothing to say in regards to her already haven eaten. NATURALLY. She dropped her hands off of the table and into her lap, picking at her thumb fingernail. She looked down and her hair fell from behind her ears and fell like curtains. She was uncannily aware of her breathing. How full her stomach felt when she took a breath in, and how empty her body felt when she expelled the breath. The breath rattled out of her lungs and left her cold and distant.

She looked up, lifting her head and pushing her hair back behind her ears. He indicated the drinks and she stared at him a moment, almost challenging him to retrieve the drink for her. But she finally stood up and approached the fridge, pulling it open and looking through it. She reached out and shifted some of the loose fruits and bags of lettuce before spotting one of the bottles of mineral water. Her fingers fastened around the neck of the bottle and she pulled it out, closing the fridge after her. She went back to the table and sat, opening the water as she did. She took a deep drink and then set the bottle on the table, staring at Albus.

This was so awkward.

He looked ready to escape. And his words screamed escape. She stared dully at him and said, “I’m cool.” She was curious to see if he actually abandoned her.

Albus stood at the foot of the staircase, hovering near the doorway. Lily slumped on the chair, hands propped on the table, staring back. Out of the window, down three floors and somewhere in the neighbourhood, a dog barked.

Albus suddenly had a ridiculous vision of his Mum, stalking down the staircase, mouth pursed: all pink t-shirt and grungy jeans and Weasley temper aflare; ordering them to shake hands.

The urge to laugh struck him like a bolt out of the blue, unawares. He stifled it.

He walked back across the room, rubber soles of shoes squeaking against the polished, tiled floor. Extended a hand, rested it on the edge of the table, and dropped down on the chair diagonally opposite to Lily's. He lifted his other hand and set the Coke can on the smooth wooden surface, pushing it with a finger, propelling it adjacent to the plastic bottle of water. A couple of seconds flitted by, before he cleared his throat.

"I......don't have a nine-to-five job as such. Meetings with people here and there for....business. My hours at home aren't fixed. But I'll always be back by eight." The saliva was sticking, starting to moisten his throat. He cleared it again. "I wake up early, by around five. You can sleep as late as you like, I won't disturb you. Do whatever you want during the day, go out and roam if you like, just lock the door. The Anti-Alohomora lock is on my dresser."

Words were flowing a little easier now. Better. "You'll have to make your own entertainment. There are books, and the T.V in the room next to this. There's a Muggle internet cafe down the block. Money's always there in the dresser too, tell me if you'll need more."

His eyes finally, flitted up and rested on his sister's face. Regardless of how old, or serious, he could still find traces of the bright-eyed child in those features, those lines around the mouth she always had even as a kid, because she had loved smiling. "We could go out shopping for stuff, if you need it, Diagon or anywhere else. Or.....or..if you'd prefer to go alone, that's understandable." A pause. "I go out for groceries every Thursday, you could come along if you wanted anything. Or if you don't, tell me what you'd like to eat. I'll....get the necessary stuff, and cook it."

He shifted, in his seat, slightly.

"Alright?"

Lily had never missed her friends back home so much. She had never thought much of them - she knew she liked them, sure, but their companionship was beginning to mean so much now. It would be strange, only having  Casey for social contact. Lily could feel something rising inside her and she knew... she was going to get in a shit ton of trouble before this marriage law had a chance to sink its claws into her. She could already feel her inhibitions lowering in the desperation to feel somehow connected to this strange weird around her.

Lily sometimes could not believe the world she lived in. Never before had youth had to fight so hard to stay young - or so it felt. Responsible, intelligent Lily was now seeing her government steal away her youth, and she could feel rebellion kicking in. She would love to make some of the stupid mistakes youth allowed. Too bad she was stuck with her brother, who had been seemingly born an exhausted forty-year-old insurance salesman.

Albus was rambling on, giving her the run down of all the useless information she was surely going to forget or ignore. Lily stared dully at him, her eyes continuing to dare him to say anything of real importance. "Sure, alright," she responded. She waited. Would this be all?

Damn, she missed her friends.

"Sure, alright."

And there was the expected third person in the room, again, even after his long ramble. Silence.

Somehow, Albus had to wait for two seconds, blinking twice, to make sure that that was really.....it. Two words, three syllables only, that his sister shot out in a dull voice after his huge speech, looking for all the world that she could drop down of boredom any minute, like she'd be any place else rather than here.

Well. That never had been a big surprise.

Fine. Maybe he could have been a little more receptive. More brotherly. Maybe he could have hugged her on the doorstep, flicked her amiably on the forehead, teased her about her ridiculously skinny limbs and enquired how she was, truly. Asked if there was anything he could do to make her feel.....at home. Fine.

But none of that was.....him. And in spite of that, at least he didn't walk out of the room. Walked in the opposite direction, in the right direction, sat down next to her and tried to give her a feel of how her life was going to be these couple of days. Change was difficult. He got that. Maybe he had said 'cook food' and 'buy your stuff' and 'take the money any time you like', when he was supposed to say 'I'll try to help and be there the best I can.' But those sentences were one and the same. She didn't get that.

A minor flicker of irritation worked into his senses. Everyone always had said that he had been one hell of a moody, sulky, temperamental sixteen-year old. Was this how they felt? The way he was feeling, looking unsuccessfully at Lily's downturned, morose face. This digging sense that something was wrong, off; but the person opposite you wasn't going to betray a word, or lift a finger to remedy anything.

And that, was what the irritation was focused at. Not at Lily's uncooperative behaviour, or even himself. Just that.....

When had she....become like him?

"When are you planning to leave for Hogwarts?" His voice was quiet. "You'll need to get your stuff."

And that, was the difference two words could make. That five minutes ago, it had been 'we'. Now, it was just 'you'.