"A Dulling Glint, Like Rusting Steel"

Rating: "T", for strong issues and extreme angst.

DISCLAIMER: This story is fictional – that's F-I-C-T-I-O-N. It never happened, and is not real. It is the product of my own imagination. It contains descriptions of male slash (that's male/male homosexual relations). If you do not like this type of content, or if you find homosexuality or its practice offensive, please click the "Back" button or close your Internet browser NOW, and do not read any further. All characters and copyrights are owned by J.K Rowling and Warner Brothers™ (AOL Time Warner), but this story is owned by me and is all my own work.

Drabble: Word count 250.


The eyes are the gateway to the soul.

Your eyes are the first thing that I noticed about you when we met five years ago. Bright and penetrating, almost invasive. Glinting in the sun like a surgeon's scalpel does as it catches in the over-table lamps; and just as sharp as one. But the scalpel has been blunted, and now lies discarded, covered with rust. What has taken away your grindstone?

Eyes so bright do not fade without good reason. Something dulls them somehow. Something clouds over the very resplendence of your soul.

And yet, although you act the happy camper, fresh for another school year, they seem to be screaming. The face may lie, but the eyes speak nothing but the truth. Yours are no exception, Sirius. I know that you'll never tell me. But I need to know. Help me to help you.

I used to see such joy and mischief in those deep, steely eyes. And yet, all I can see now is pain and hurting. I can only guess at what abuse you are subjected to at that awful house where you are imprisoned every summer. What happens there? Your eyes cry out for help, but your lips stay firmly shut. Why? Do they not move by your own doing, or has somebody sutured them together?

One's eyes tell us one's story. But what is your story, Sirius? Please, tell me!

I love you, Sirius.

Tell me how I can make all the hurting go away.