Title: Canon in D Major
Fandom: Harry Potter
Author's note: I recommend you listen to the piano solo of Pachelbel's Kanon (Canon) as you read. This is dedicated to Mikey. No sappy dedication, just the way you like it.
Heartbreak is like a wrongly struck note in the most beautiful of songs. It is painfully conspicuous, suspended in the atmosphere like an echo, an irreversible mistake. But it cannot be changed; it will exist in the senses of one's audience, and there is no other option but to continue playing the piece without trepidation. That is just how it is.
It was only a few years ago when they made a vow to play it in the wedding of whoever would marry first. They all made quite a good joke of it and never truly expected that they would fulfil their promises one day, that day being James' wedding.
Remus sat down. The ivory keys felt smooth beneath his fingers. He liked to run his hands across the length of the keyboard, making the notes sound one after the other as he did so. It was an old habit he had never gotten rid of and never wanted to. The sound of the hammers consecutively pounding softly against the strings brought him an odd sense of comfort.
Time was always frozen momentarily when he played, almost as though there was nothing else in the world for him to care about. It was therapeutic, just like writing his thoughts down in a diary, except Remus always found music much more effective in conveying his so-called inner turmoil. He was not a man of many words, and it seemed to him that memories ought to be released and never to be dwelled upon again. They hurt too much.
He placed the piece before him and studied it carefully, just as he did when he first learned it.
x.x.x.x.
"This'll take me forever to learn."
Sirius positioned his chin on the chinrest and lifted the bow resignedly. Remus sighed and placed his fingers on the respective keys.
"Come on, Padfoot," he said exasperatedly. "One more time. We promised we'd do this and I don't think I can ever go back on a promise."
Strands of black hair fell loosely over Sirius' grey eyes, but he hardly seemed to mind. There was a hint on sadness in them, Remus could tell. They were drawn down to avoid his scrutiny.
"Come on, Pads," he said again, sombre in tone. "Do it for her."
Sirius turned his head and looked out the window. It was a beautiful mid-morning, and two larks were singing on a branch of the tree that stood outside. Sunlight trickled through the spaces between the leaves, and a warm breeze wafted into the room.
"Ironic, isn't it?" he said quietly. "Everything's supposed to be perfect, but somehow it doesn't feel that way."
Remus did not answer. He sat still, staring at the notes written on the piece before him. Sirius set the bow upon the strings and played a note. The larks chirped in the two friends' silence.
"On my count," said Remus without turning to see if Sirius was ready. "One…two… three."
He struck the first note and the rest followed. Mi, re, do, ti, la, sol, la, ti, slowly, carefully, almost painfully in tempo. Sirius entered afterwards with a gentle cry from his violin. They carried on, avoiding any mistakes as much as they were capable of doing. It started out slow and solemn, reflected in their eyes and the way their lips were poised downwards. The piece progressed, becoming slightly faster in tempo and a little more jovial and celebratory in mood. They, however, did not look any more cheerful.
Sirius moved his bow with a certain grace that was unknown to many. It was not a fact well known that he was a rather excellent violinist, probably because it seemed unlikely that the Sirius Black would even consider playing the violin. He had been tutored when he was younger, due to the insistence of his mother. Secretly, the boy wished to learn as well. The music the instrument produced attracted him, and he hoped that perhaps it could be his saving grace in pleasing his family. But the older, wiser Sirius did not care about what they thought anymore.
He only cared what his friends thought, and what she thought. He was doing it for her.
Remus pressed down the keys with his slender fingers, ensuring to play the right notes at the right pace. He was as effortless in playing the piano as Sirius was graceful with the violin. He could not play it perfectly, he knew that, but he loved it to such a great extent that he played with the same passion Beethoven and Chopin would have given. He was not equal to them in their genius and skill, but in his enthusiasm, he was just as great.
The instrument was his ally, his closest confidante. It knew what was happening within the owner of the fingers that caressed its keys, and it translated his sentiments into music that caused people to notice.
He still did not dare look at Sirius as they continued rehearsing the piece. He knew that if he did look at him he would see everything that he was thinking reflected in his friend's eyes. He already knew what they would tell him, that misery would not be erased for a long time, but resignation was the only solution. "No matter what, we must be happy for James. We must be happy for both of them," he would say, but their eyes said otherwise. He did not want to see his grief in another's eyes.
She had always been beautiful to him. Sirius felt the same way. She did not know how much she had changed them, how he had learned to not be ashamed of his being an outcast werewolf and how Sirius learned to overcome the fact that he was an outcast son. They had been so young then, so ignorant of what lay ahead of them. But he already knew about love, and he knew that he loved her. In all their childish innocence he loved her, because she was pure and happy and everything good. Everything he used to believe he was not.
Perhaps good things were never meant to last.
They grew up, they changed, and they lived their own lives accordingly. He still loved her. Every time he would see dark locks of red hair he would instantly believe that they belonged to her, because he chose to think that only she had red hair so beautiful and unique. He would often turn and see Sirius behind him as he watched her from afar. Sirius was also watching her, he was aware of that. But as he would return his attention to her he would catch a glimpse of James beside her. Only then would they look away guiltily and try their best to forget.
He struck a wrong note.
James entered the room, smiling cheerfully. He had been busy during the past few weeks, seeing that everything went just as he had planned. He wanted everything to be perfect, because after all he was only going to be married once, or at least he swore to his friends he would. They believed him. No one could make her happier than he could.
"How's everything?" he asked. They ceased playing and smiled at him, trying to push their feelings and thoughts away.
"Alright," said Sirius. "What about you? How're the preparations?"
"I feel like I'm going to die," James joked. "But I can't, because I want to get married first. Sirius, I don't think you can play during the march."
He said it so suddenly that Sirius did not know how to react. Remus was the one who spoke.
"What – why?"
James grinned. "Because he's going to be my best man, that's why."
Remus looked at his other best friend, and he saw exactly what he feared to see. Sirius was smiling, but his eyes were blank. Blank because he wanted to play for her on her day of days.
"That's great!" he said, packing his violin and bow into its case. His hands fumbled awkwardly, shaking as he finally shut it closed. Remus did not like the sound of his voice. It was strained, but James did not seem to notice.
Sirius followed him out of the room without looking back. Remus remained, staring at the piece still before him. He placed the papers back into an envelope and took out another set, something he had prepared just in case the inevitable finally happened.
Canon in D Major by Johann Pachelbel (solo for piano).
He struck the first notes again.
x.x.x.x
Notes echoed throughout the church. A lark fluttered in through one of the side doors and landed in front of a stained glass rose window. Remus was through with his warm-up. James closed his eyes in nervousness, rubbing his hands as though he wished to pray. Sirius stood quietly next to him, gazing at the magnificent window without truly seeing it. It was time.
Mi, re, do, ti, la, sol, la, ti.
One by one they entered through the opened oak doors, in step with the music that only he played. Little girls in lilac gowns threw flower petals onto the red carpet that rolled to the altar. Women in similar gowns walked in, bouquets in hand. The rest followed, but Remus could not watch them. He was in the climax of the piece as they continued to enter. He needed to play it perfectly. For James. For her.
The lark flew away from the rose window and fluttered above the front doors. She had finally entered. All heads were turned towards her direction.
He had finally reached the part, the one that followed the culmination of the piece; the part that was soft and sad and yet still the most beautiful part throughout the entire composition. It was her favorite part, she once told him.
She walked slowly, surely, and gracefully. She was never more beautiful than she was at that moment; red hair in a knot, pearl necklace around her neck, lace gloves covering her soft hands. A long, white train followed behind her, carried by a little boy in a suit. Her veil covered her face, falling over it perfectly. They could all see her smiling beneath it, happier than she had ever been in her entire life. Her emerald-coloured eyes showed them all. This was what she wanted; this is what she chose. She did not need anything else to make her truly happy now.
James looked up and smiled upon seeing his bride coming towards him. Sirius looked up as well, and Remus tore his eyes from the hard keys to see her.
It was difficult for both of them. Sirius stood by the altar, waiting for her as though he were the groom.
But he was not.
Remus was hidden behind the black grand piano, hiding his tears within himself and his music.
It was all he could give her now.
She smiled at both of them, only at the two of them. They realized that they knew what she meant.
x.x.x.x
"On my wedding day, I'll smile at you and you both will know that I mean it as a thank you." she said to them. They looked at her, bewildered.
"Thank you? For what?"
"For bringing me and James together. For giving me the happiness I've always dreamed of."
x.x.x.x
Remus struck the last note as she reached the altar. James took her hand and held it in a way they knew they could never do for her not because they must not, but because they cannot.
They both returned her smile. They fulfilled her dreams.
That was all they needed to know now.
FIN