Blue is the Warmest Colour
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[A/N at the end]
The dormitory was quiet as Sirius yawned and stretched his arms out above him. His friends' beds were properly made and a pang of sadness went through him at the thought that he would be spending this Christmas break alone. Of course, he couldn't really blame his friends for not being at Hogwarts, they had families and homes to go home to. Families and homes that they wanted to go home to. While he, Sirius, didn't.
He spent the first ten minutes of his day wallowing around in his bed as he stared at the ceiling, then at his green argyle socks – hand-knitted by Mrs Potter and gifted to him last Christmas – and then out the window. He knew he was being pathetic, but he figured that he had license to be that way. He was alone. On Christmas Eve. And he probably wasn't going to get any Christmas presents tomorrow either. Unless Kreacher had, miraculously, raided the kitchens to send him a dead rat like last year on behalf of his family.
With a final yawn, Sirius jumped out of bed and left the sheets in a mess as he toed his slippers on. He pulled his red and maroon striped robe on – another gift from the Potter's – and let out another yawn. He spread some apricot pomade onto his hands and ran his fingers through his hair while staring at his reflection on a tiny bedside mirror. Sure, the castle was probably empty, but this day was already miserable – having bad hair would just be the proverbial cherry on top of the pile of dung sundae.
He glanced out the window quickly and noticed the even layer of powdery white snow coating the grounds as far as the eye could see. In the distance, heavy clouds of smoke puffed out of Hagrid's hut, and Sirius made a note to visit his favourite gamekeeper later on. Because at least if his friends weren't around, there was always Hagrid. Granted, he would probably have to accept the fact that he'd be losing a couple of teeth later – because the only caveat with Hagrid was that he always wanted to feed you rock cakes that were actually the same consistency as a rock.
Sirius quickly ruffled his hair again for good measure before turning away from the window, walking out of the dormitory, and down the stairs. As he had suspected, the common room was quiet as he jumped down the last step and brought his hands out in front of him to balance himself.
A giant Christmas tree had been erected next to the fireplace a week ago, why they had put a flammable item next to a fireplace, Sirius didn't know. After a quick inspection of the tree – he just wanted to see if there were any presents for him underneath it – Sirius said a somewhat flat 'hello' to the Fat Lady and ambled down to the Great Hall.
Tinsel in shades of scarlet, gold, royal blue, and green adorned the walls, posts, and suits of armour. Bright banners in flashing colours were hung on empty walls, and the portrait frames had a light dusting of artificial snow around the edges. Even the people in the portraits had Christmas hats on, and a sprightly knight was eagerly waving a tankard of beer around as he terrorised a group of grumpy looking priests.
The decorations of the castle had improved Sirius' mood considerably and as he entered the Great Hall, he stopped at how different it all looked. Instead of four large tables, there was only one – albeit larger than the normal house tables – and yet, somehow the Hall looked just as cosy as it usually did. Sirius suspected that it was because twelve gargantuan Christmas trees lined the walls and made the room feel smaller.
He'd been so intent on the sight of the Hall that he was completely winded when a lanky body crashed onto him and suffocated him momentarily. Sirius had half a mind to poke the person's eye out before he caught sight of Remus and Peter laughing in front of him.
"Give a bloke a bit of warning mate. You could've knocked me out," Sirius joked as he hugged his best friend back and laughed along with Remus and Peter. "How are you all here anyway?" he asked without bothering to hide the sheer excitement in his voice.
"Well, we changed our minds when we got to Kings' Cross, and luckily we managed to convince our parents to pay for our Knight Bus tickets to take us back here. It dropped us off at Hogsmeade, and Hagrid walked with us to the castle this morning – we couldn't leave you alone on Christmas," Peter explained, his cheeks flushed and his deep blue eyes bright with happiness. James stepped back and slung an arm around Peter and Remus, his hair ruffled and his glasses crooked.
He must've noticed the emotion brewing in Sirius' eyes, because in classic James Potter fashion, a sly smirk adorned his face as he threw a playful punch at Sirius' shoulder, "Lighten up old boy, we don't want you getting all soppy like Remus here."
"Bugger off," Remus retorted as Sirius chuckled. As the four of them took their seats at the table, and tried not to laugh at the sight of food getting caught in Hagrid's beard, Remus lightly patted Sirius' back. A gesture that Sirius appreciated more than he could possibly explain.
After gorging themselves on Christmas pudding, chipolatas, and toast, the four of them spent the day outside, making snowmen, having multiple full-scale snowball fights, and creating igloos. It had been one of the best Christmas Eve's that Sirius had ever had, and any of the bitterness that he had had earlier in the day was completely gone by the time he slouched in an armchair in the common room after dinner. He had had the perfect day, he was going to spend Christmas with his friends, and he had been well-fed. There was nothing more that he could want and he thanked whatever lucky stars he had for his good fortune.
And yet, as he stared at the blue flames licking the crumbling logs in the fireplace, Sirius couldn't help but think of his family as he brought his knees against his chest and rested his chin on them. Christmas always seemed to do this to him, because like it or not, Christmas was a time to be with family. And yet, he wanted nothing to do with them, despite his conflicting melancholy thoughts.
There was one part of him that hated the lot of them and wanted to get as far away from them as possible, but there was also another part of him that still wanted to appeal to them. A part of him that wanted to fit in, like he had wanted to as a child before he'd given up and rebelled against everything his family stood for.
Out of the corner of his eye, Remus took a seat in the loveseat adjacent to him. Sirius took a few moments to compose himself before he glanced in his friend's direction and noticed the look of concern in his tired, pale blue eyes. He could tell that he wanted to say something, but was wondering how to phrase it the right way. Remus was nothing if not a perfectionist.
"Just say it Remus," Sirius sighed as he crossed his legs. He had expected for Remus to say something wise, but Sirius was taken aback when his friend stood up, ran upstairs to their dormitory and shut the door with a bang. So much for that, he thought. He continued looking at the flames as they danced and his ears perked up when the door slammed again and hurried footsteps came rushing downstairs.
"I want you to listen to this," Remus said as he gasped for breath and threw him the vinyl cover while he fiddled around with the record player on the mantel of the fireplace.
"Johnny Cash? I like punk rock, not country music," Sirius replied as he placed the vinyl cover on the coffee table a little too harshly – earning himself a glare from Remus.
"Just be quiet and listen to it alright, trust me, you'll like it."
Sirius seriously doubted that, but he had had a wonderful day and he didn't want to get on Remus' bad side, especially this close to a full moon. Not that Remus was dangerous, far from it actually, but he was a bit menopausal when the full moon was close. Remus glared at him once more, and Sirius hadn't realised he'd said the last thought aloud. With a sheepish grin, he shrugged at his friend and leaned his head back against the armchair as the song began to play.
He could feel Remus' eyes on him as he listened to the deep baritone of Johnny Cash crooning through the silence of the common room. The only other sounds that could be heard was the crackling of the fire, the faint wind blowing against the window panes, and he and Remus breathing. He had never been a fan of the blues or country music, he found it depressing and predictable, but as Sirius listened to the lyrics, there was something captivating about how well he could relate to them.
Where punk rock ballads from The Who, and Led Zepellin had fuelled his anger and angst against his family, Johnny Cash's lyrics made him stop and think about his previous life. Because despite not actually having experienced death before, Sirius saw his life as two separate entities – there was the time he had spent as a Black, and now, the life he had as a Marauder. The blues of his childhood, and the gleaming golden hue of his present and future.
Sirius had always hated the colour blue. When he was younger, he couldn't explain why, but as he listened to the lyrics of the song, he realised why. To him, the colour blue reminded him of his family; it symbolised cold shoulders, icy glares, and the melancholy of feeling out of place in his own house.
Blue was the colour of his mother's eyes, and they turned into an icy hue whenever she stared at him in disdain or anger. The colour blue was tainted with purple and yellow when his skin bruised because his father would grab his arm a little too tight, or when his cousin Bella would poke her finger against his chest too hard. The colour blue, when mixed with red and white, was the colour of Regulus' eyes when he watched Sirius getting punished by their mother, and the colour of his eyes when Sirius had walked out of 12 Grimmauld Place for good.
He hated blue. Not because it didn't go with his skin-tone, or clashed with the colour of his hair, but because it was a consequence, or pre-cursor, to pain and suffering. Blue was for goodbyes, tears, and pain. Blue was a colour that he had associated with all the worst memories in his life, and despite his best efforts, he couldn't shake it off.
But for all the sadness and pain that he had gone through in his childhood with his family, there were moments of golden tenderness laced into the medley of blue. They were rare, but they clouded even the deepest blues that he had gone through. There were all the times that his brother, Regulus, had said he loved him; there were the times when he was young, barely a boy, when his mother would coo and fuss over him; and there were the times when his father would teach him how to hunt, shoot, and play chess.
As the song came to an end, Sirius hadn't realised that a few tears had trickled down his cheeks until Remus held out a small embroidered hankerchief for him. The initials, R.L, were embroidered in gold and Sirius chuckled nasally as he dabbed at his eyes and cheeks. The emotions that rushed over him as he leaned back in his chair were like nothing he had ever felt; it was sadness, mixed with regret, and laced with hope. A mixture of blues, golds, and brilliant blinding white.
He loved his family, he had to come to terms with that, but he hated them too. He hated his childhood, but there were moments of real happiness there that he had to admit had happened. It was an odd thing to come to terms with, to accept that you loved the very same people that you hated. It was twisted and wrong, and yet to him it made perfect sense. Because despite what people thought, life wasn't black and white, and there were all sorts of grey areas – his relationship with his family being one of them.
"Thanks," Sirius said as he handed the handkerchief back to Remus. His friend smiled at him, and Sirius knew that he wasn't just saying thanks for the handkerchief. He had needed this, needed that song to come to terms with the raging feelings inside him. Punk rock was his life, but it was anything but constructive for dealing with complex feelings, at least for Sirius. "What song was that?"
"Home of the Blues," Remus replied as he stuffed his handkerchief into his pocket. "Are you alright?"
Am I alright? Sirius thought as he ran a hand down his face.
On the one hand, he was still furious with his family. He hated them because of their beliefs and their views. He hated them because of the things he knew they did behind closed doors. He hated that they did unspeakable things for the sake of 'protecting the pure-blood prerogative'. But on the other, he also loved them. Because despite everything he was their family and there had been warmth in his life, however brief and rare it had been, there was warmth.
Perhaps he would never be alright, perhaps this battle of wills inside of himself, this restlessness and feeling of being lost would always be with him, but as he looked up from his hands and stared into Remus' pale green eyes – which he noticed were flecked with bits of hazel and blue – he realised that perhaps he was alright. Or as alright as he would ever be.
"Have you got anymore of this bloke's music?" Sirius asked, hoping to lighten up the mood. Remus' eyes flickered with confusion before a sweet smile lit up his face.
It had been an eventful – and reflective – Christmas Eve to say the least, but as another of Johnny Cash's songs echoed through the empty common room, there was nothing else that Sirius would rather be doing, and nobody else he wanted to spend the early hours of Christmas morning with.
Author's Note
Thank you to AJ, 2D and Alixx for all the suggestions on how to include the theme into this piece!
Word Count: 2,346
Written for the Houses Competition
House: Ravenclaw
Category: Themed [Blue]
Prompt: [Date] December 24th, [Emotion] Sadness
I hope you all enjoyed this story x
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Until next time, Andy x