His Last Sanction
a story by ~danzori
A/N: I just want to say thanks to AreYouSirius-questionmark who betaed this. You're awesome.
DISCLAIMER: I do not (unfortunately) own anything that has to do with Harry Potter, except for my own imagination.
"Go to him. He needs you," He told her, avoiding her sad, emerald eyes. It was cold, and they really shouldn't have been there. They were seated in the wet grass, right outside the big entrance and it was just past midnight. He was lying on his back, dressed in his favourite pair of worn-out jeans and his signature leather jacket while she, who had been about to go to bed when he requested a walk, was only dressed in one of James's shirts. It was way too big and, opposed to him, she was freezing her ass off.
His eyes were glued to the sky, as if counting the stars above them, and she knew he was trying, trying so hard not to feel. He had always been that way, never letting himself be too emotional. When they were younger, perhaps in fourth or fifth grade, when they still had been fairly close, he had often said, "Feelings don't help a damn. They just complicate." He would then grab the next girl he saw and snog the hell out of her. Lily did not at all agree with this, but in some ways he was right. The feelings of Sirius Black, they were complicated as hell. They were not bright like the sun or as cold as ice; they were something in between, always both, never the same, always too many, never enough. This cold October night, he seemed restless, like he was waiting for something to happen, something dramatic and life changing and her gaze kept uneasily wandering back to him.
He had never been a normal guy; there was always a hint of mystery surrounding him. Everything about him, his way of speaking, even his cold, grey eyes and messy hair seemed to hide something bigger behind that mocking smile. (Perhaps that was why most of the female students worshipped him, or it could be because of the body; he had a marvellous body.)
But right now, it was graver than that.
"Look at me." she whispered and finally, after ignoring her silent pleadings for what seemed like an eternity, his head turned and his eyes fell upon her. She shivered. The raging storm in his eyes told her more than he would ever say out loud. It was disturbing to see him like this; that playfulness his gaze usually radiated was nowhere in sight and this expression did not at all fit his handsome face. He looked so... serious. (She snorted at this and thought that if this situation hadn't been this grave she would have laughed at his solemn expression, "Siriuuuus, you look seriouuus.".)
When he was this deadpan, Lily could spot the Black he had in some ways been raised to be. The harsh and cold stare shot through her heart like a bullet fired inches from her chest. He was slowly pushing her away, achingly but wisely letting her go, and she could do nothing, absolutely nothing, but watch and stare right back at him.
"He needs me." she finally said and he nodded at her. "But..." she tried. "You also need me."
At this, Sirius looked away, biting his lip. He seemed to be struggling with his words. This conversation was something new to them; they had been careful to avoid exploring this part of their complicated relationship, and there was an awkwardness lingering between them.
"Yes..." he began, and suddenly his expression grew so intense, so heartbroken and feckless, she had to look away. "But I'm a Black...," he said, almost as if repeating a phrase he had once heard, but never understood. Then he said something very true. "and... you're James's girlfriend."
It was when he stated this that they finally, he finally, accepted what he had always fought against. What they had, what they were, was something they should never have been. Liking your best friend's girlfriend this much couldn't be healthy.
Lily Evans stared at Sirius Black, and for the first time, after years of pranks and recklessness and moments of gold, she really saw the black in him; it appeared imprinted like a tattoo, the black ink dark against the solid grey of his eyes and that part of him, that darkness in the depths of his soul, frightened her more than anything else.
It was a stormy night; the wind kept pulling on her long hair and her eyes closed, the thin eyelids shielding them from the strong wind. She stubbornly kept them closed as the tears swelled over and gently ran down her rosy cheeks. She was shaking. He was broken. She was broken. James was broken. She realised that the reason this whole three way thing didn't work was because of exactly this; they were broken. Two hearts could mend and sum the other up, but three hearts could never. One was destined to be left outside.
In some ways, she wanted to comfort him; she wanted to hold him close and tell him it would be alright. It wasn't alright though. War was in the making and James needed her. Sirius needed her. She needed to make the choice she had always known she would eventually have to make. But she was scared and also very easily persuaded. She leant her head against his chest and, seeking some kind of comfort, pressed her face against his jacket. It smelled faintly of smoke and aftershave.
"You need me." she stated again, unnecessarily. He said nothing, just kept silently counting the stars. It was night time, and here they were out on the school grounds, when they could be anywhere, anywhere but together. James wasn't alright, they both knew it; his father had just died and his mother was growing frailer by each passing day. He needed them both to support him, and yet they were avoiding him (together), instead, trying to figure out something that never really occurred in the first place.
There was a mixed tension of awkwardness and attraction lingering in the air and soon she couldn't bear it anymore.
Lily stood up. He needed her, but she had no idea what she was supposed to do. This kind of pain wasn't the sort that could be salvaged, at least not by her. This was something else, something new and something terrifying. He wasn't hers to mend, he couldn't be. She stepped back and looked down at the broken boy in the grass who frantically kept counting the stars above him, as if it was his last sanction. It was a devastating and so painfully beautiful sight. She almost lay down next to him again, almost. She was not supposed to, though, and they both knew it.
Slowly, she turned around and began walking towards the castle. She was growing colder by the minute and was anxious to get inside, go straight up to the boys dormitory and lay down next to James, where problems and feelings were much simpler, and where the pain was much easier to understand. There, in the comfort of James' arms, she did not feel like this, like she was swimming in a strange sea, never knowing if the crushing waves around her would bring her down.
There, right by James' side, she was comfortable. Next to him, she had never felt this... lost. Sirius made no motion to stand up and neither did his eyes leave the sky above him. As she left him there, she couldn't help but notice how many stars he had left to count.