Love is Blind
Chapter One
I'd like everyone to take note that before reading this: italic equals dream sequences, bolded italic equals simple quotes from the past, anything that is in (" ") is what they are saying, anything in (' ') are their thoughts, and lastly the (-- --) is just something that is read in the head or something or other like that. Bare with me please and sorry for all the confusion that I might've cause. Enjoy reading, I hope, and do review. One more thing, the very last quote isn't mine, though one of the character in the story does say it.
It was a lapse of thought really, the true reasons to why his drunkenness had occurred in the first place. The night was quiet, with the spontaneous flash of silent lightening appearing throughout the air. A foul sense of murder lingered, but James Potter was unperturbed by the stench of blood and liquor. His mind was in a haze, clouded with the intoxicating taste of his own choice in a beverage, a deep red sort, not the kind that he hungered deeply for, but it settled him. Staggering slightly he managed to make way to some resident's home, but his vision was half blinded.
Through a drunkard's eyes he caught glimpse of a girl. A ragged little thing, but it was the first woman he had seen in years… He was blinded for a brief second; the damn spectacles blocked his view. Body leaned heavily upon the frame of the door, a questioning brow rose as his mind registered the fact that the door was open, 'Did I do that?' Shaking the disheveled stands of black he turned his attention back towards the girl—who had mysteriously disappeared.
A drunk tends to see things that others don't, a drunk tends to do things that they themselves would most likely regret. One step into the door and he landed fondly to the ground. The tinkering of rain was sounding, the storm was finally here. His vision lapse yet again and he saw the faint color of peach flash about the ground, the faint patter of footsteps grew oddly hollow within his ears. Murmuring, squinting he reached out and was greeted with a feminine gasp. Even in this drunken state, his reflexes were at top notch. Whether he was crazed at the moment or simply idiotic he had swiftly pulled the small ankle with a forceful hand. A soft thump landed next to him and red blinded his vision. The stirring scent of lilies filled his already disillusioned mind.
A forceful jerk from the warm comfort brought him back, slightly. "Soldier, you should really cut your hair," he slurred on. Back ridged, eyes fixated on the roof, he was just about ready to sleep when the sudden touch of flesh blessed his face, 'what the?' Eyes lolled in the back of his head, but he forced himself to see this, this…thing.
She was a blur to him, but a heavenly blur no less. Soft, red tresses, or was that a dress? Green, glassy, questioning eyes looked strangely at his intoxicated figure. He reached out and she, not surprisingly, backed away. A sly smile graced his lips as he studied her, though pleasant, but sleep had the upper hand. Lulling back he settled into a seeming sleep, and again the hand interrupted his dreams.
Her fingers had grasped his neck and for a fleeting second he thought she was trying to kill him, until they traveled downwards… He swatted her hands away, grumbling as she poked his ribs. She laughed slightly, but caught herself at his annoyed glare. He had found the strength to rise, "What's so funny?"
Drunkenness aside, he found her quite rude, similar to motley. This time, as he reached for her she didn't back away, in fact, the girl didn't seem to notice the shift. He stared intently at her, closer than can be, but he dared not breathe.
"POTTER! GET YOUR ARSE OUT OF BED!"
The annoying bristling voice shattered his dreams, not intending to follow orders he merely tossed the blanket over his head and resumed sleeping. But his mind remained restless, he was angry! He a general, stood at a much higher rank than most that were stationed in this camp, these were his troops—so who in bloody damn hell had the nerve to wake him! Nearly throwing the ragged rag outside and therefore collapsing his "strongly" built tent, he was consumed into a well devise trap. Entangled in sheets, a tent, and who knows what else, he let out a huff, and simply went back to sleep.
"Sir? Are you alright?"
"Can't a guy get any sleep around here," he mumbled out, "Anything to report, solider?" His eyes were fixated on the dark green fabric that was, at the moment, suffocating him. He was causing a scene and he knew it, but he could care less what subordinates think. The voice faltered for a moment, but steadied itself, "There seems to be a problem in the artillery center sir, and we can't find General Snape anywhere." A low menacing growl was emitted from his lips and with one swift movement he was out. Standing before the twenty year old solider was a nearly naked James Potter.
Kneeling and digging into his fallen tent, he fished out some pants and a shirt. Throwing the younger man a questioning glare he got dress. "Do you know where Snape went?" he questioned him. The quick reply of "no sir" nerved him somewhat. He took another glance at the solider as he pulled the shirt over his head, the young man looked horrible! "Did you get any sleep last night?" Again the quick answer of, "no sir." "Night shift I'm guessing," a simple nod was his answer, "Get to bed." With that said he left the man confused, but glad.
It was a fairly short walk from the sleeping quarters to the artillery, but somehow he always managed to attract the insane. "General James! Er—Potter, sir…Sergeant?" The wavering voice simply made him twitch, but he stopped nevertheless.
"What is it?"
The bright smile, the combed hair, the ironed uniform? Where in the hell did this kid come from? He eyed the stranger with glee, pleased to see a new face, but annoyed with his seeming perfection.
"Orin sir."
"Are you new?"
"Arrived a month ago sir."
"On what business?"
"Action sir."
A hearty laugh left his lips. "Disappointed?" The younger man shook his head, "no sir." James shook his head, but his eyes finally landed on a ghastly load of paper that was clutched in Orin's hand. "Tell me that isn't for me," he pointed at the odd parcel. The younger soldier shook his head and smiled as he stated proudly, "It's my book."
"Book?"
"I started writing it the first day I got here. I was wondering if you'd read it."
"You aren't serious are you?"
The book was flung into his hands, making him stumble back a bit. James stared questioningly at the book then at the writer, but he flipped absentmindedly through the pages.
--It seemed like some illustrious dream, some Romanesque. The day was done and the sun had finished its daily doings, but its brilliant light cast fondly on the briefest moments. It cast the shadow of light upon a non-sighted fair, a cruel, yet ironic twist. Her world remained as dark as the abyss, but the beauty that surrounds her, the intoxicating image that she presents…grants that certain something.
"What are you?" He questions.--
A loud 'snap' of the book and a crude laugh, "That! Was—was, uh nice." The young recruit looked somewhat crestfallen. Hazel eyes eyed the younger man, then the book with an exasperated expression, "where are all the women? The sex? The gore and bloodied details?" he had pushed the boy gently away, annoyed with his persistence.
It had been three years into the war, three wasted away years since he and others had been sent out, and still, no action! The peace was driving him mad and making his soldiers soft and crazed.
"It's based off life," the quaint perky voice made him twitch, just a bit.
"Is it…?" He drawled out.
"Did you screw her?" The voice was gruff and clearly disguised with liquor, but James had thanked the heavens for the escape. The stumbling, disheveled appearance of Sirius Black scared the daylights out of the younger boy. His demeanor was of a drunkard, half clothed, heavy lidded, along with a daring lopsided grin, but his mind was intact, at least, what was left of it.
"You should be in bed," A third voice had entered into the 'supposed' conversation, and this time the boy had taken the chance to disappear. "Come on Remy, be a sport and nag someone else," those fingers ruffled through sandy strands, "we were—where's the kid?" Grey eyes glazed over as he thought over the events, but he shrugged off the disappearance. The topic in question forgotten as a gun was suddenly fired.
"FALSE ALARM!"
Three heads turned to meet the last of the great four, a short little fellow that appeared to be quite plum. His breathing ragged as he ran out of the smoked tent, "Damn igniter." Laughter spilled throughout as they watched their close friend dust the remains of soot off his tarnished uniform.
"You never knew how to control a gun."
"Your gun for that matter."
A blush spread rapidly across Peter's cheeks, "I do not need to defend myself," he retorted hotly, ignoring the sly smirks. A sudden arm encased the smaller man into a bear of a hug and dragged him off towards the artillery center.
"I hear that we'll see action tonight."
Sirius was leading the way; his arms folded to cradle the weight of his head as he walked mindlessly onwards, head peered to the sky. "You mean out on the field, right? Or we talking about the fine confinements of your bed?" James questioned. There pace was slow, but ever step had a certain beat to it.
"Out on the field you ninny or have you other plans?"
"You flaming gay."
"Hey, with no sex for the last three years, a man has a right to seek the next best thing."
"Is that a compliment?"
"Whoever said I was granting an invitation to you?"
"Will you two stop bickering out this nonsense, we have other matters," the blue eyes remained unchanged throughout the whole ordeal, while Peter continued to fidget with the remains of his uniform, "Mind if we stop by my quarters? I need a change."
James stared mindlessly in the direction that Peter ran off too, but his focus was elsewhere. Unfortunately the glaze look did not go unnoticed by Sirius. He was suddenly wrapped in warm arms, a head rested in the crank of his neck, and the idiot's hair nearly knocked off his glasses! James went rigid, "As much as I appreciate the sentiment, would you mind." Faking hurt, Sirius forcefully pushed the other man forward, somehow causing himself to fall into Remus, sending them both to the ground.
A shake of the head and a small chuckle was all the reaction that James could muster, his attention elsewhere. The camp fell silent as they watch the tall, gangly, Second Class General, Severus Snape hull what looked to be a woman inside head quarters. The body pale, the red strands covered with dirt, but it was a face that he remembered, a face from long ago. He staggered back slightly, the sounds of Remus yelling, the sounds of Sirius laughing, the sounds of guns went obsolete. A soft voice flowed to his ears, a hollow memory, a past that he thought to be forgotten:
"Why is it that we don't always recognize the moment love begins, but we always recognize the moment it ends?"