DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter.
Quidditch Pitch: Sirius Black/Marlene McKinnon
Drabble Club: stares (word)
200 Characters in 200 Days: Sirius Black
Emotion Challenge: Depressed
Greek Mythology Category Competition: Penthus: Write about someone dealing with the death of a loved one.
Lots of Love Gift Giving Challenge: This is written for DobbyRocksSocks. Hope you like it!
AN: The river mentioned in this is the River Styx.
Soft are the ripples of black water descending upon the shore, a whisper across the dirty pebbles.
Longing are the eyes that stare from the other side.
A single cry echoes in the dark.
He sees a shadowy figure on the other side of the river.
"Come back," he whispers. He wishes he could cross the river. Wishes he could hold her in his arms one last time, wishes he could kiss her. Just one last time.
The ferryman fixes his old, foggy eyes on him, his gaze intense. When he finally speaks, his voice is hoarse, like gravel raining down a hill. "You can't cross." He takes the paddle in his hand and dips it into the black water, a sigh escaping from his lips. Slowly, he begins to row the ferry, and the dark, rotting wood dips in and out of the water.
"No."
He cannot cross.
The figure on the other side becomes clearer. Soft, chocolate curls that he used to run his fingers through. Misty green eyes he could stare into forever. They still haunt him.
A sad smile graces her pale lips. She stares at him for a precious moment, green meeting grey, then turns and walks away, each step cracking his heart more.
"Don't leave me," he calls after her, a single tear slipping out of his eyes.
He cannot cross.
He tosses and turns, grey eyes wide open. Her face floats before him, just out of reach.
"Please," he whispers, a strangled sob escaping his lips. "Please come back."
She shakes her head, a gentle smile creeping onto her rosy lips.
For a second, he thinks he hears two, soft words.
I wish.
Sirius stares at the mirror, taking in the haunted grey eyes, the scraggly black hair.
He catches a glimpse of her.
He leans into the mirror, his eyes greedy as he drinks in her every feature. "Marlene," he says, his breath clouding the mirror.
Then, just in a moment, she is gone.
"No." He drops to his knees, his eyes still fixed on the mirror. "Come back."
I wish.
The words echo in his head, taunting him.
He raises a hand and hits the mirror. Shards of glass fly into the air, piercing his skin, drawing perfect teardrops of blood.
He doesn't feel the pain. He has already felt the worst possible.
There is nothing that hurts more than losing her.
The river is a wide stretch of black, daring him to try to cross.
He knows he can't.
He catches a glimpse of white, a small echo of hope swimming in the black.
Her wedding dress.
Just another dream that never became true.
"Come back!" he cries, tears falling from his eyes in an endless torrent.
The black water washes over his feet in a gentle, haunting caress. It sends a small sting running through him, one that destroys almost every hope, every wish, every dream.
"Marlene, come back!"
But no one comes.
The other side is nothing but a sea of empty souls, drifting aimlessly.
He once thought he could make wishes come true if he really tried.
But now he knows.
"Come back!"
I wish.
Wishes don't come true.