Rubble and Betrayal and Love
This one-shot is set in the Marauders era kind of, but I imagine the whole war-battle-ness to have taken place almost exactly like in the Deathly Hallows. It's not mega-important, but I pictured the bit where all the Slytherins don't fight to be like that. If that makes sense. If it doesn't- well like I said, it's not important.
It's written in second person, present tense, which is a first for me. I wrote this because it has always annoyed me that ALL the Slytherins were sent away. I'm sure some of them would have been on the side of the Light.
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He comes to find you, after the battle. You knew he would. You are on the eighth floor of the castle, curled up like a cat beneath a smashed-in window. You are bleeding from a cut on your cheek and a gash on your arm, and you are bruised and aching but alive. You hear the rubble shifting as he picks his way towards you. You haul yourself painfully into a sitting position, and he sits down carefully beside you, with an exhalation of breath. You are very aware of the space between your legs and shoulders. You ache to close the gap but instead stay motionless, bracing yourself for the inevitable onslaught. You resist the urge to look at him, and there is quiet for several minutes- a peaceful quiet, deceptive of the turmoil of emotions roiling in you both. When he finally speaks, you flinch. His voice is steady, but you can hear the betrayal and pain and it hurts you that it hurts him.
"Why didn't you fight? Why didn't you stay? I thought you'd changed your mind. I thought you weren't going to follow him anymore. I thought... I thought y-you l-loved me..." His voice cracks and trails to silence and you look at him at long last, drinking in the sight of him even as tears well up in your eyes at his words. His black hair is tangled and matted with blood, and there is dust and dirt streaking his beautiful face. His clothes are ripped and dirty, and you can't help checking him for injuries. There is a serious-looking gash on his forehead, various cuts and scrapes all over his face and neck, and you can tell from the way he is holding his arm that it is badly hurt. You almost raise your wand to Heal it- he was always terrible at Healing spells- but you know it wouldn't be welcomed. You begin to speak, your voice hoarse.
"I couldn't stay and fight with you. I w-wanted to, more than I can say, but-" He interrupts, finally angry at you.
"But?! There is no but! If you'd really wanted to, you could have!"
"No I couldn't!" You barely register that you are shouting. "You don't know what it's like to be a Slytherin! No-one trusts any of us! We don't all believe that pureblood crap, but we're never given a chance! I knew what side I was on before us. I hate V-Voldemort. I hate him, I hate this war, I hate the house divide. All I wanted was a normal relationship with you, where we could hold hands in the corridors and kiss under the mistletoe and do couple-y things. And I know why we couldn't, and I understand the hate we would have got, and the horrible mean things that people would say and do, but it's not fair! And it might sound baby-ish but it isn't fair. You don't think I wanted to fight?" His piercing grey eyes meet yours, bright with unshed tears, but you keep talking, your voice wavering and your body trembling. "Nobody would trust me to fight with them! And I couldn't stand it if someone was hurt or k-killed because they were so busy watching their backs that they forgot to watch their fronts." A tear trickles slowly down your cheek, leaving a clear trail through the thin layer of grime that covers you and everything around you. "I sat up here and I shot down Stunners and Disarmed Death Eaters, but the whole t-time, I wished I was with y-you. I d-didn't even know if you were alive..." Your voice breaks as you remember the overwhelming and overpowering worry at the thought you had lost him forever.
He reaches out a hand to cup your face, brushing away the tears with his thumbs. You grab his free hand and hold it tightly like a lifeline. He is crying as well now.
"I do love you, Sirius Black. I love you m-more than anything." He pulls you close to him and you both collapse onto the unforgiving stone floor and broken rubble, ignoring the discomfort. His hands trace your face, your body, running through your hair as if he is trying to convince himself that you are there, that you are alive, and you are doing the same. And you kiss him fiercely, wildly, tasting the flavour of his lips- the salt from his tears and the metallic tang of his blood and the taste that is Sirius- and you bury your face in his shoulder, breathing him in, and then you hold each other close. "I love you too," he whispers, and you both sink into the blissful sleep of the truly exhausted.
And when dawn breaks, the sun splitting over the castle, his friends find the pair of you lying fully clothed among the rubble, limbs entwined and bodies close, your hair tickling his face, your foreheads touching. And as you wake up, you smile at him, and he grins back, and you know that you can face anything with him at your side.