Hazel Eyes
DISCLAIMER: Obviously none of this belongs to me...NONE OF IT! storms off

AUTHOR NOTE: This is a one-shot, but it wasn't just something I sat down and wrote. I've been thinking about how I wanted to portray Sirius' first reactions to James and Lily's death for quite some time now. It certainly isn't as powerful as I'd like it to be, but perhaps when I'm a better writer I'll revise it. Anyway, until then, here it is; I wrote this mainly to shut my pining for Sirius up...sigh...I didn't think it was possible to miss a fictional character so much...>

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His eyes are hazel. Not the common wild-honey hazel, but a deep, rich shade of wood, shot through with pale gold. His eyes are framed with heavy lashes, and they are black like his hair. His eyes are brighter than usual now, brighter in a dull way, void of thought, but only a little.

'- did you see that save?! Everyone was just cracking today. . .have you ever seen Snivellus so brassed off? Bet he's wishing he wasn't rubbish on a broom.' James' voice rang out even before he had reached Sirius, the sun glinting off his white teeth. Running his hand absentmindedly through his hair, he scanned the Gryffindors making there way back to the Great Hall for dinner. His eyes landed on a certain red-head whose back was turned, and, with a jerk of his head to Sirius, he strode determinedly towards her.

'Hey Evans! Some game, wasn't it?' The long red-haired girl turned to face James, nodding to her friends to go on. Sirius, however, walked right up to the two of them, smirking from one face to the other.

'You flew well, if your fishing for compliments, Potter.' She pointedly ignored Sirius, flipping her hair in his direction. 'And just think, that wind should hold your hair in that style you love so much for at least half an hour. . .' With a miffed look at Sirius, she turned to go.

'Lily. . .' shooting a dark look at Sirius, James stepped forward, cutting off Lily's path to the Hall. 'I wasn't fishing for compliments, alright? I just wanted to talk to you, was all. No point getting all shirty over a little Quidditch game.' Lily raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms at James' attempt to downplay his obsession, looking up once more at his slightly worried face, and from Sirius' standpoint, he was sure he caught a flash of teeth.

'About going to Hogsmeade. . .' She began, looking a bit apprehensive. James nodded, looking hopeful. 'Well, I suppose it wouldn't hurt to go together; I mean, it's not as though we'll be on a date!' Her chuckle came out a bit forced, but James didn't seem to notice. 'There'll be plenty of people around!'

'Sure, sure there will. Plenty.'

Sirius smirked again. From the dazed look on James' face, he seemed ready to say just about anything; Sirius knew perfectly well that James had no intentions of keeping his mates around once they got to Hogsmeade, but that idea seemed to have flown out the window in favour of agreeableness.

With a small smile, Lily turned to go again, and James gave a ridiculous little wave. He stood looking after her awhile before Sirius came up behind him, elbowing him hard in the ribs.

'Finally some action!' But he smiled genuinely, and James smiled back (having received the approval of the only person he needed it from) and ran his hand through his hair again. His eyes were bright with a kind of happiness far beyond a Quidditch victory, and Sirius sighed a little wistfully. . .

Sirius wasn't sure how long he had been slumped there next to James, gazing into those hazel eyes. At some point he had collapsed to the floor beside his best friend, his face lying flat against the wood, parallel to James. He lay there, unblinking, reminiscing, and the floor became wet, the warm salty taste touching his tongue as he unconsciously let the tears trickle across his face.

James' hair was still sticking up the way it always had, and his eyes were still that unusual hazel, and his hand was gripping his wand, as it often had, but Sirius could not ignore the way his glasses hung from one ear, a fine crack running across one of the lenses, or the way his friends frozen face had an uncharacteristic expression of horror over the characteristic bravery.

Sirius had known absolutely the moment he had seen James lying there the he was dead. He had even felt an inkling of what lay inside as he had ran up to what was left of the door. Yet still he lay there, unwilling to touch the cooling skin, as though his friend might sit up at any moment and tell him to sod off. He lays and listens to the air: it is muted; there are no sounds of clocks or cars or breath.

He understood. He understood this mess that had once been a house, he understood James' crumpled form, he understood all of it with a sickening drop in his stomach. Peter. And it was his fault. His tears started falling faster now, and without thinking he grasped the front of James' jumper and shook, ignoring the way his head lolled back and forth, the glasses finally falling to the floor.

'Forgive me James, forgive me!!' he said foolishly, and he lowered his face to his hands, which still lay tangled on James' chest. He stayed there, kneeling, for a few minutes before he became aware of the cold hardness of his best friend. He recoiled, but immediately forced himself forward to touch James' face; a kind of punishment. It was cool to the touch, but not yet stiff. And it did not feel at all human. It was more like a doll, or perhaps a waxy mold of a face, so very empty. The hazel eyes stared innocently back at him, making Sirius' breathing come hard and fast. He stretched his hand out a second time, and his fingers touched the cold eyelids and dragged them closed; the paralysed muscles did not move easily.Darkness veiled those beautiful hazel eyes for the last time.

He stood up. He walked past James' body and into Harry's little bedroom, where he knew he'd find her. She was still beautiful of course, her redwood hair fanning out around her white face. Her eyes were open; why was it the killing curse always caught them open? He knelt beside her and awkwardly closed her almond eyelids over those brilliant eyes that had first entranced James. Oh Merlin I can't do this. . . he stared dumbly at her face and remembered how it had shone on her wedding day, and how she had glowed when he danced with her.

But Sirius shook himself from these thoughts, and stood to face the final blow of little Harry gone forever. He was met with eyes so like Lily's; they were open. And they blinked. Sirius took a shuddering, convulsing breath and nearly tripped over Lily's still form in his rush to get to Harry. How was he alive?

An angry red gash coloured his forehead, but he was quiet and did not cry. He just lay there, gazing up at Sirius as he so often had, as though his parents didn't lie dead around him. Sirius' tears hadn't stopped falling since he had entered the Potter house, and they wouldn't now, but he almost choked in relief as he picked up his godson. He had somehow escaped Voldemort. . .somehow. But it didn't matter now, he needed to get Harry away from this place immediately. He needed to get away from this place. Peter.

He couldn't keep his hands from shaking as he wrapped Harry as best as he could in his jacket. He couldn't choke back the sob that rose from his deepest depths as he walked past James' body. He couldn't bear to just leave them there, but that was exactly what he had to do. I wish I had died with you.

He pushed open the barely-there door and stepped down the stairs, nearly falling on his face as he tripped over the steps; he couldn't see a thing through his blur of tears and hate and guilt.

I wish I had protected you.

He started his motorbike. He needed to get Harry to where he would be safe. He was not safe with Sirius.

I wish I had died and you and Lily had lived.

He would go after Peter. He would pay for what he had done, for what he had failed to protect. Sirius would show his old friend no mercy, and when the time came to kill him, he would be killing a piece of himself as well.

He does not comprehend the fact that everyone will think he has betrayed James and Lily. If he had, he would have continued. He knows now that there is no one for him, that there will never be anyone for him, that not even Moony could forgive him for what he had done to his best friends.

All he sees are hazel eyes.