Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JKR
Tears That Fall
She sat in her living room, the folded newspaper in her hand, as she was wont to do every morning. Glancing at her watch, she frowned. He had not returned last night. She laid the paper aside and sighed. He was always doing this. Yet she would wait patiently every time – lovingly, almost. She had forgiven him for his indiscretions so many countless times, then wait nights over for him to return from his gallivanting with other girls. No, her days of waiting for Sirius Black were over.
She picked up a piece of parchment and wrote. Three times, she had to write the letter, because it was so sodden with tears. She barely had the heart to do this, yet she knew she had to. Because it would not do for her to waste her life on the scoundrel any longer. She closed her eyes and recalled the times they had had together.
Even at Hogwarts she had known that she was taking a risk by going out with Sirius Black. He was always the ladies man, always surrounded by giggling girls. Yet, he had pleaded with her so genuinely and she had relented. For a while their relationship had lasted – far longer than any of the Marauders had expected. Then she had caught him kissing a Hufflepuff fifth year and it had gone downhill from there.
He had begged her forgiveness, of course, telling her it would never happen again. What a fool she was for believing him! But she had, and that would be her downfall – believing in a man all knew to be false. He could never stay true forever – perhaps she knew it in the back of her mind. Unwilling to admit it, perhaps, but oblivious she was not. She remembered, with pain, the many nights she had stayed up waiting for him, knowing he was out with another conquest. Why she hadn't given up on him, she had no idea.
She held out her trembling hand in front of her, willing it to stop shaking. To no avail. Her hand was pale and unadorned. No bracelets, no gaudy bangles – unlike the shameless hussies he flaunted himself with. No rings, either – nothing to show any prior attachment. Just like his.
They had been together for so long, it was hard to imagine a life without him. Yet, remembering the tears she had shed for him and imagining a life without them seemed worthwhile.
She turned to the coffee table and picked up a photograph of them together. The little moving images drew apart as she looked. Just like their life counterparts. Oh, she still loved him, no doubt, but there was a dull ache, a pain that caused her to give it all up. She had hoped for his redemption, for him to realise how much he was hurting her, for so long.
It wasn't worth it anymore.
The third piece of parchment was sodden with her tears once more. Willing herself not to cry, she picked up a new piece.
Sirius –
I know where you are and what you have been doing. We've had this scene far too many times. I just want to say, whoever the girl is now; I hope she's worth it. Sirius, I love you. But I can't deal with this anymore.
Forever yours:
B.
She picked it up and sealed it, firmly. Before she could have any regrets, she handed the parchment to the owl that sat on its perch looking at her. It tilted its head on its side, looking at her for a moment, as if willing her to change her mind. Then it flew out of the window. She watched it go, tears readily falling now.
Grabbing some of her belongings and shoving them into a bag, she slung it over her shoulder. Where could she go? Not to Lily's – Lily had James now. And James was his best friend.
It didn't matter anymore. Just as long as she got out of this prison.
She left the apartment, closing the door softly behind her.
And on the table, the newspaper blew open in the breeze, its headline reading:
The Boy Who Lived
And in smaller lettering in the corner:
Black's Mass Killing