The Stars
The stars, she decided, must be very lonely. Quite like her, in fact—it may seem at first as though each star is surrounded on all sides by countless others, but a closer examination proves that the for each, the closest one is still thousands of kilometres away.
When her parents died just before school began, she was sure she'd never find happiness again. Her mother and father were the only two things that had stayed constant throughout her entire life, and now they were gone. Finding comfort in her sister was a laughable thought, and suddenly the girls in her dormitory—the ones she had considered her friends—seemed to be desperately lacking the one thing she needed.
"There's a rumor going around that you've blockaded yourself up here, and refuse to ever come down again." She heard a familiar voice from the doorway to the Astronomy Tower, but didn't even bother to turn around.
"Go away, Potter. I haven't the energy to deal with you right now," she said, hating how pathetic she sounded. She heard shoes scuffing the ground for a moment, before feeling the light brush of his shoulder against hers as he sat down to the right of her. She pulled away from him, and kept her gaze straight ahead.
"It's a pretty view, isn't it," he said, looking out at the stars. She had expected him to turn to face her, but far as she could tell he kept his gaze at the stars as well. She relaxed a bit.
"Yes, it is. My sister loves the stars…ever since she was little, really. Back when we were little, before…Hogwarts, we used to go to the beach for a week every summer. And every night, she'd lie in the sand with me…and point out all the constellations," she said, squeezing her eyes shut tight for a moment, trying to fight the tears that were building once again. She wondered why she was crying for her sister. She wondered why she was telling him this.
"Mmm," he said, leaning back against the stone wall behind them. "Sirius is like that sometimes…granted he couldn't find an accurate constellation to save his life—not even his namesake—but he likes to pretend, sometimes," he said, his voice light.
They were quiet then, for quite some time, until she reached out with her left hand to point at something. "It's there, you see it? That's Sirius," she said, and he couldn't help snorting.
"Impressive. He's never been right once," he said. "It's odd this is our last year here, isn't it," he said, and she barely even noticed the broad change of topic.
"I'm not ready to leave here," she whispered, keeping her eyes on the constellation of Sirius.
"Well, that's what this year is for," he said, very matter-of-fact. "It's for getting us ready," he said, more gently.
"But what if I'm not? What if I graduate, and leave here, and then…fail?" she asked, taking comfort in the fact that both were looking at the sky, and not each other. She couldn't understand why she was being so open with him, after shutting everyone else out.
"You won't," he said, sounding so sure of his answer that she believed him for a moment. "You…you're the type of person that will never fail. You'll never fail because you'll be so dedicated that failure just won't be an option," he said, with a note of finality she didn't want to question.
"What about you, then?" she asked, and he let out a quiet laugh.
"Me? My future is wide open," he said, though she didn't quite understand. "I've been told I have great potential—great potential that I'm absolutely murdering by carrying on the way I do," he said, and she found his brutal honesty so refreshing. It was hard for her to remember, in this moment, why she disliked him so much. "If you ask me, that's why I got appointed Head Boy. It's Dumbledore's last attempt to salvage me," he laughed again, but it was a sad laugh.
They were quiet for another moment, just looking at the stars, until he spoke again. "Honestly, I haven't a clue if I'll succeed or fail once we leave here. But I'm excited to see; I'm excited to see what I can make of myself when I'm away from the watchful eyes of teachers."
She nodded slightly, and then felt foolish because, after all, he wasn't looking at her. "Yeah," she said instead. "It'll be a nice change. But won't you miss this place?" she asked, surprised at how desperate she sounded.
"Well, of course I will," he said, sounding surprised that she had ever questioned it. "This castle has been my home for six years now. But the way I see it, I'll be taking all the important parts with me," he said, and she was silent as she tried to understand what he meant. He realized this, and continued. "Everything I've learned here, from all the professors and students, I'll be taking that with me. And the friends I've made, I have no doubt that we'll stay close even after school's over," he said, smiling to himself. "So all I'll really be missing is just this castle," he said, reaching up to feel the stone with his right hand, "And who said we aren't allowed to come back for visits?"
She didn't answer for a moment, seemingly lost in her thoughts. But he didn't mind, because that seemed to be how this conversation was structured; they would speak when they had something to say, and not waste the night on words said only to fill the silence. To them the silence was refreshing, and the stars were beautiful.
"Sometimes I think I'm very different than the little girl who first came to this school," she said finally, and he raised an eyebrow at the unintentionally dramatic statement.
"I think we all are; you have to change, to grow up," he said, but then grinned. "What's so different about you, then?"
She sighed for a moment, contemplating her answer. "I've…well. I think I've become less dependant on rules," she said, before letting out a dry laugh. "Not as if it was particularly difficult to do, seeing as I was nearly obsessed with them for a long time. I used to think…well. I used to think that if I followed all the rules, nothing would ever go wrong…" She left the remark open-ended, and both knew the implications. "But I've let go of that notion now," she said, nodding once to affirm her response.
"We're quite opposites, you know," he said, with an amused tone.
"Oh?" She was well aware he was right, but was interested to hear his reasoning.
"Yes," he said, shifting his body so that their shoulders brushed again. This time, she didn't pull back. "You…you grew up following and enforcing all the rules, and just now you're starting to loosen up. Me, I'm the other way around—I've always disobeyed every rule possible, and it wasn't till recently that I started falling into line," he said, pausing for a moment before continuing.
"Not to mention our completely opposing personalities. I've always been the type of person who flaunts their accomplishments, so that everyone can take note," he said, and she could have sworn there was an element of regret in his words. "But you…it seems to me like you downplay all your unintentional successes—like your looks, let's say—so that everyone will see something more."
He was quiet after that, and she didn't offer up anything more to say. They sat in silence, listening to the other breathe and taking in the beauty of the clear September sky surrounding them.
"It's past curfew," he said finally, as he looked down at his watch. He heard her sigh.
"Oh, is it?" she asked, and he grinned to himself at her lack of interest. She'd changed, alright.
"It is," he said, stretching out his legs as if he were about to stand.
"You never mentioned my parents," she said, leaning forward from the wall and looking at him for the first time. He pulled his knees back to a bended position, leaned back against the wall, and shrugged.
"I figured that if you wanted to talk about them, you would," he said, and she loved how simple he made it.
"Maybe not tonight," she said, softly, and he raised an eyebrow.
"Ms. Evans, are you implying that you may be speaking with me again?" he asked, and she almost smiled at the amused look on his face.
"Maybe," she said, settling back against the wall. "I think you might be good for me," she added softly.
"You've always been good for me," he said, turning to look out at the stars again. She ducked her head down, so that her red hair covered her face.
"I've been terrible to you, you mean," she said. And then she felt a spark of something—of defiance—and knowing that she hadn't felt it since August made her feel alive again. "But honestly, at the time I truly believed that you deserved it, because you were just so horrid sometimes—" she slowed down, not wanting to take everything out on him. "I just thought you were bad news and nothing good…" she drifted off, and it was her turn to look back out at the sky.
"And now?" he asked. They were both staring at the stars now, their shoulders brushing and their heads against the wall.
"Now…now I think I might have been wrong about you," she said softly, with the ghost of a smile on her face. "Now…now I think you may be just what I need."
He chuckled to himself, laying his arms out on his bended knees.
"And what, Ms. Evans, could you possibly need me for?" he asked, thinking of her near-perfect grades, and the flock of girls from their year that always seemed to be with her.
"To find my happiness again."
She glanced back at the stars, and decided that maybe she wasn't so similar to them after all.
A/N: Thanks for taking the time to read this, I'd really appreciate it if you took another minute to let me know what you thought.