White Rose

*an excerpt from Sirius Black's memoirs*
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I loved her. It took me months to admit it to myself. But I did.

People always say love is wonderful. But they never mention it can hurt.

It hurt me.

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I could never tell anyone. Had I loved another, any other, I could. But not this person.

Lily. Lily Evans.

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Now you see why I could not tell anyone. Rather, I could not tell the ones that mattered.

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You must understand that of the two of us, Peter feared me the most. He admired James instead, James with his Quidditch skills. While James was intelligent, very so, I ranked highest in magic.

I envied James, for he was well liked. I was well known, but naturally, it wasn't the same.

I could tell Peter. But he was a mercenary. He could be bought.

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Remus. Remus with his talk of honor. Remus would try to understand. But how could he, when he loved no one? He could never love, nor be loved. He would not understand any of it, from the fact I loved my best friend's girlfriend to the very fact I loved at all.

I was alone.

Unless I told Lily.

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At first it seemed improbable, even crazy. But as I thought, it seemed to be inescapable. So, I vowed to tell Lily and James.

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But time flew by too quickly, and whenever I began to speak, I always stopped. It was never the right time.

I pined away, growing thinner and thinner. I became paler than usual, and my very stature seemed limp.

James noticed immediately, inseparable as we were. I feigned many different kinds of sickness...I did not want him to worry.

It cane to the point where I just would not rise from bed. I couldn't, knowing the sight that awaited me.

I nearly died.

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James broke into my rooms, sensing that something was ill. He found me on what was my soon to be deathbed.

Seeing him rose me. The time was right.

I told him everything.

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He did not accuse, nor did he walk away in anger. This, I had expected. This, I could handle.

But he comforted me.

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We talked, and he did not fault me. He understood.

He knew I would never fully get over Lily, nor my brush with death.

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The next day he returned, bearing flowers.

A dozen white roses.

The flowers of forgiveness.

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I simply stared, shocked that not only was he willing to slaughter me, he wished to resume our friendship. He smiled.

He understood.

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Years later, my favorite flower remained the white rose. James and Lily married, and I had been his best man. When they considered names for their child, one had been Sirius. I could not believe Lily would consider naming the child for me, even though she knew everything of my past. I declined, and I suggested Harry, a favorite of mine. I did not expect them to agree.

They did.

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We were friends; I was in and out of their house, seeing as mine depressed me and I could not find a place to live. Or, I did, but James' place was always more inviting.

James worried for me, me with my nomad life. He thought I might be depressed.

And I was.

Depression doesn't depart easily, and I had a history of it. But I knew so much, and I was worried.

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I had a little Seer blood in me, enough to know when something dangerous was coming.

They died within the week.

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I know I should continue, but the memories still hurt. Someday I will tell Harry; he has a right to know.

When the time is right.

-Sirius Black
(the memoirs)