A/N: I wrote this for Kirixchi some time ago when she needed cheering
up. Somewhat inspired by "Reach For The Sky" by Social Distortion.
Disclaimer: If only writing fanfic was profitable :P But no, HP and associated characters are not mine and bring me nothing but plot bunnies.
He had always been the type to put things off until the last minute.
When he first learnt how to fly, on the children's model of the Cleansweep Five that Uncle Alphard had purchased for him for Christmas, he had remained outside, zooming through the snowflakes, a speck of Black against the white and gray that was the winter day, and he hadn't come back inside until a second before the sun dipped below the horizon. His nose had been red and his eyes had been bright, and his mother's face had been pale with fury.
Sirius had merely waved impertinently at his cousins as he cheerfully tromped upstairs to change into something dry.
He had lingered on the Hogwarts Express his first year, peeping curiously through the door of his compartment, alone after an annoyed Bellatrix had led Andromeda and Narcissa off. He watched as a boy as rowdy as himself, a cap of messy hair dark as devilry, strode past his compartment with Quidditch Through the Ages tucked under one arm, running forward a step to mischievously pull on the auburn braid of a little girl who was primly stepping off in front of him. He had watched as others left before him-- a greasy, scowling boy with a big nose. A pale, sickly-looking boy holding a book on dark creatures. A chubby, timid-looking boy walking alone, gazing shyly about. A curly-haired little blonde girl with dimples, who noticed him and waved.
It was only when the incumbent Head Boy, an icy-looking fellow named Lucius Malfoy whom he knew from formal banquets, came checking the compartments that he left the train, unconcerned and proud in his new Black robes.
He and the first boy, whom he later found out was named James, would get into a food-fight that evening and be assigned detentions with Professor Montague, the dour Potions Master. But none of it could break his spirit, and that evening, Sirius would be the last to fall asleep in his room in Gryffindor House, his eyes bright, his future dark.
He would be the last to finally start studying for that killer Transfiguration exam that Remus and Peter and even James would worry about-- and, to the fury of all, pass with flying colours. And in the less-and-less childish duels with Severus Snape in the hallways, he would always have the last word.
Sirius would go back to the Grim and Black family home in the summer and be the last of the returning children to greet his family.
His mother glared and doted upon Regulus, who was too young to understand the tension, and on the last day of summer after his fifth year, he used the money he had saved up to buy himself a motorcycle.
And then there came the information that a New Saviour to their race had arisen-- the most powerful Dark Lord ever seen since Grindelwald. They called him Voldemort and shook with fear, and he remained in the shadows as he watched Bellatrix take the Mark, an expression of almost-ecstacy on her striking face. He had turned away before he could see Regulus' look of awe and Narcissa's polite interest... or Andromeda's flinch.
Sirius was the last of the young ones to outgrow the habit of running from home like a child whenever he was angry with the world.
And he ran further each time.
They all dated time and again-- and they all found love. All of them kind of knew that James would be with Lily, and Sirius remembered a boy chasing a girl down the narrow corridor of a train, hand outstretched to pull her hair. Remus had a silly crush on Narcissa for a while, before he "came to his senses". Even Peter worked up the nerve to ask Marlene McKinnon to Hogsmeade. Sirius winked at the no-longer-so-little blonde with the fetching dimples whom he'd seen on that first train trip and sent an anonymous yellow rose to Rosmerta Puddledeep every week.
His seventeenth birthday came and went at the beginning of summer, and his mother approached him about the Mark. He sneered in her face, lip curling like that of an attack dog, and his derisive laughter was almost as cold as the fireless grate in the kitchen and the tinkle of shattering glass as she raged at him. He impertinently lit a Muggle cigarette and blew the smoke in her face, and when she screamed for him to get out, he hadn't budged until she had raised her wand to curse him. And he ground his cigarette against against the tapestry, burning out his own name much like Andromeda's had been obscured the last year (he'd been the last to embrace her good-bye, after her sisters).
It was a quarter to midnight-- the last chime of the clock before the new day... when he left the House of Black for the last time.
James welcomed him in with open arms, and with the money that Uncle Alphard had given him and the part-time job that Andromeda's Muggleborn fiance had found for him, he paid for his keep with the Potters. He would ride out after the sunset-- not keen on imposing his presence on the other family-- and reach for the sky, a blot against the blood-red sunset.
It was the last night of school, and Sirius had waited until the final possible moment, perhaps out of habit.
Rosmerta Puddledeep was working at the pub that belonged to her family, and he watched from the door as she bent her fair head over the table as she wiped it down. Wide brown eyes had met arresting gray when he walked in with an armful of yellow roses and a lopsided smile.
Somehow, she hadn't needed any explanations, and with a grin as free and mischievous as his own, she took his hand and let him lead her out the door, locking it behind her for this one night of dreams.
She laughed and it sounded as bright as the setting sun's rays when the motorcycle rose through the air, Black hair mingling with blonde as they rode off to anywhere.
Lily would find them together, naked and beautiful and asleep in each other's arms on one of the couches in the Gryffindor Common Room at dawn, and she would forget about the rules they had broken and wake them gently, telling them to prepare for tomorrow and the rest of their lives.
And Sirius would hold Rosmerta's hand until the last minute on the train, alone and away from them all, and kiss her with youthful passion, promising to write her tomorrow.
The yellow roses came more and more sporadically as the world grew darker around them, but Rosmerta understood, somewhat.
She cried when the Potters died, and withdrew into herself when Sirius was led away, a believed double-traitor who had betrayed his blood and then his cause.
And the years would pass and she would see posters of the Black man with the defiant eyes and remember an evening when they had reached for the sky together, nearly catching the stars.
And in the hell on earth that is his prison, Sirius would cling to the memory, not quite happy because nothing came to fruition through it, and he knew that it would be one of the last thoughts that the Dementors could tear away from him.
And later, as he fell through the veil under Bellatrix's wand, the last thing he saw before his eyes shut was a blast of light that looked startlingly like a perfect yellow rose.
Disclaimer: If only writing fanfic was profitable :P But no, HP and associated characters are not mine and bring me nothing but plot bunnies.
He had always been the type to put things off until the last minute.
When he first learnt how to fly, on the children's model of the Cleansweep Five that Uncle Alphard had purchased for him for Christmas, he had remained outside, zooming through the snowflakes, a speck of Black against the white and gray that was the winter day, and he hadn't come back inside until a second before the sun dipped below the horizon. His nose had been red and his eyes had been bright, and his mother's face had been pale with fury.
Sirius had merely waved impertinently at his cousins as he cheerfully tromped upstairs to change into something dry.
He had lingered on the Hogwarts Express his first year, peeping curiously through the door of his compartment, alone after an annoyed Bellatrix had led Andromeda and Narcissa off. He watched as a boy as rowdy as himself, a cap of messy hair dark as devilry, strode past his compartment with Quidditch Through the Ages tucked under one arm, running forward a step to mischievously pull on the auburn braid of a little girl who was primly stepping off in front of him. He had watched as others left before him-- a greasy, scowling boy with a big nose. A pale, sickly-looking boy holding a book on dark creatures. A chubby, timid-looking boy walking alone, gazing shyly about. A curly-haired little blonde girl with dimples, who noticed him and waved.
It was only when the incumbent Head Boy, an icy-looking fellow named Lucius Malfoy whom he knew from formal banquets, came checking the compartments that he left the train, unconcerned and proud in his new Black robes.
He and the first boy, whom he later found out was named James, would get into a food-fight that evening and be assigned detentions with Professor Montague, the dour Potions Master. But none of it could break his spirit, and that evening, Sirius would be the last to fall asleep in his room in Gryffindor House, his eyes bright, his future dark.
He would be the last to finally start studying for that killer Transfiguration exam that Remus and Peter and even James would worry about-- and, to the fury of all, pass with flying colours. And in the less-and-less childish duels with Severus Snape in the hallways, he would always have the last word.
Sirius would go back to the Grim and Black family home in the summer and be the last of the returning children to greet his family.
His mother glared and doted upon Regulus, who was too young to understand the tension, and on the last day of summer after his fifth year, he used the money he had saved up to buy himself a motorcycle.
And then there came the information that a New Saviour to their race had arisen-- the most powerful Dark Lord ever seen since Grindelwald. They called him Voldemort and shook with fear, and he remained in the shadows as he watched Bellatrix take the Mark, an expression of almost-ecstacy on her striking face. He had turned away before he could see Regulus' look of awe and Narcissa's polite interest... or Andromeda's flinch.
Sirius was the last of the young ones to outgrow the habit of running from home like a child whenever he was angry with the world.
And he ran further each time.
They all dated time and again-- and they all found love. All of them kind of knew that James would be with Lily, and Sirius remembered a boy chasing a girl down the narrow corridor of a train, hand outstretched to pull her hair. Remus had a silly crush on Narcissa for a while, before he "came to his senses". Even Peter worked up the nerve to ask Marlene McKinnon to Hogsmeade. Sirius winked at the no-longer-so-little blonde with the fetching dimples whom he'd seen on that first train trip and sent an anonymous yellow rose to Rosmerta Puddledeep every week.
His seventeenth birthday came and went at the beginning of summer, and his mother approached him about the Mark. He sneered in her face, lip curling like that of an attack dog, and his derisive laughter was almost as cold as the fireless grate in the kitchen and the tinkle of shattering glass as she raged at him. He impertinently lit a Muggle cigarette and blew the smoke in her face, and when she screamed for him to get out, he hadn't budged until she had raised her wand to curse him. And he ground his cigarette against against the tapestry, burning out his own name much like Andromeda's had been obscured the last year (he'd been the last to embrace her good-bye, after her sisters).
It was a quarter to midnight-- the last chime of the clock before the new day... when he left the House of Black for the last time.
James welcomed him in with open arms, and with the money that Uncle Alphard had given him and the part-time job that Andromeda's Muggleborn fiance had found for him, he paid for his keep with the Potters. He would ride out after the sunset-- not keen on imposing his presence on the other family-- and reach for the sky, a blot against the blood-red sunset.
It was the last night of school, and Sirius had waited until the final possible moment, perhaps out of habit.
Rosmerta Puddledeep was working at the pub that belonged to her family, and he watched from the door as she bent her fair head over the table as she wiped it down. Wide brown eyes had met arresting gray when he walked in with an armful of yellow roses and a lopsided smile.
Somehow, she hadn't needed any explanations, and with a grin as free and mischievous as his own, she took his hand and let him lead her out the door, locking it behind her for this one night of dreams.
She laughed and it sounded as bright as the setting sun's rays when the motorcycle rose through the air, Black hair mingling with blonde as they rode off to anywhere.
Lily would find them together, naked and beautiful and asleep in each other's arms on one of the couches in the Gryffindor Common Room at dawn, and she would forget about the rules they had broken and wake them gently, telling them to prepare for tomorrow and the rest of their lives.
And Sirius would hold Rosmerta's hand until the last minute on the train, alone and away from them all, and kiss her with youthful passion, promising to write her tomorrow.
The yellow roses came more and more sporadically as the world grew darker around them, but Rosmerta understood, somewhat.
She cried when the Potters died, and withdrew into herself when Sirius was led away, a believed double-traitor who had betrayed his blood and then his cause.
And the years would pass and she would see posters of the Black man with the defiant eyes and remember an evening when they had reached for the sky together, nearly catching the stars.
And in the hell on earth that is his prison, Sirius would cling to the memory, not quite happy because nothing came to fruition through it, and he knew that it would be one of the last thoughts that the Dementors could tear away from him.
And later, as he fell through the veil under Bellatrix's wand, the last thing he saw before his eyes shut was a blast of light that looked startlingly like a perfect yellow rose.