A/N: It's two a.m in the morning and you're lying in bed. This idea just keeps on popping into your head until it has practically written itself. Do you ever get that feeling? It's another one of those midnight creations. Sirius sometimes has to be deeper than we give him credit for. If you liked it, I would appreciate a review. I've been working on a multi-chaptered story and it's coming out in this particular writing style. I'm wondering if I should abandon the effort. It's up to you.
Like Giving Him Away
He loves her the way everyone wishes they were loved.
I know. I've been his mate for seven years and I know.
He watches her the way girls moon over in books.
This girl means everything to him and if she so much trips he'll panic. He won't show it and if you aren't paying attention you'll miss it. You'll miss the sudden twitching of his arm and the way his eyes spark dangerously if someone gets even a mile away from hurting her.
He helps her the same way those knights-errant help damsels in distress, except without being so obvious about it.
She fell asleep in the Common Room once and when she woke up, she was tucked into a blanket, with her things all properly in her bag and a cup of coffee just the way she likes it on the table. She didn't know who it was.
I did, I was there when he covered her with the blanket, brushed her hair out of her eyes with a tenderness that made me look away. I was there when he started capping her ink bottle and carefully placing all her things back in her bag. I left when he told me he was going to stay for awhile.
Awhile lasted the entire night.
He protects her the way a mother lion would protect her cubs.
If anyone so much as hurts her, they are in for it and bad, although he never hurts them, they know they're in trouble.
She left the dining hall crying once, I forgot why, but it was one of those things where she was hysterical. She was running and screaming and sobbing all at once. No one knows how he got outside the doors to catch her and hold her as she cried, but he did.
He wants her the way he wants her.
He needs her the way we need oxygen.
He's whipped.
My best mate, James Potter, is whipped.
I whooped when I discovered that; I whistled and teased. Remus and Peter did, too. At the time, James grinned. Later, he told me that this was it. I fumbled and I cocked my head, but in the end I just ended up nodding.
This was it.
It sounded so final. I told him so. He smiled at the stars and said it was.
To me and to the rest of the world, Lily Evans is just another girl.
She's just a run of the mill teenager. She's just like us, with her faults and her eccentricities. But he sees something else. He sees something in her, something more.
He feels something that encompasses most teenagers; he feels something that most of us have honestly never felt. He has realized something that eludes most of us, he knows what he wants, what he needs, and he goes for it.
He is my best mate.
He is James Potter.
He used to give all of him to his friends, but there is a part of him now that is just for her.
It's almost like I'm letting him go, like my best mate was stolen from me by a girl. She didn't do it intentionally, I suppose, the same way James didn't intentionally fall for her. But she's taken him just the same and I can do nothing but watch, because he's so far gone he'll never recover. And I know he'll never try.
He loves her the way most people dream of and wish for.
One day I hope she'll realize how lucky she is.