Imperfect Angels: Crowning Angels
Chapter Two
Sirius awoke to the bright morning sun shining through the slats in his haphazardly shut blinds. He shielded his still-sensitive eyes with his hands, and drew his heavy burgundy curtains over the window. A soft darkness followed, sun glinting in around the blockade. Sirius stretched, rubbing his lower back like an old man, and turned to face Harry.
He was still asleep, curled up snugly in the moth-eaten golden rose comforter. His black hair was tousled, and his eyes flickered slightly. A dream, that was all. His bottom lip hung slightly open, and his little hand was partway curled into a fist. A true angel, Harry was when he slept. At times like these, Sirius would find himself wishing Remus here to wrap his arm around. A sharp pang went into his heart.
This was no time for sentiments. Today was all serious. He had requested Dumbledore out to Grimmauld Place. He wanted to discuss finding temporary – or what Albus would think to be temporary – foster parents for Harry so that way Sirius could lick his latest lacerations and heal.
Groggy, Sirius found his way to his large dresser and mirror, using his long pajama sleeve to try to wipe away the grime that had slowly grown over it. Once Sirius was satisfied, he stared down his reflection. What he saw really terrified him.
He had become a ghost of his former self. Where his grey eyes once sparkled with life and boundless energy, they were now dull and tired. He had large dark circles, and his cheeks and become slightly gaunt. His normally windswept, life-filled hair now hung lank and greasy. He had a fine beard going, as well.
"Look at yourself," He berated. "You've become a 7th Snape." He shook his head as he pulled open the dark cherry wood dresser, rummaging through it to find a clean pair of black skinny jeans and a fresj white shirt. As he stood to comb his hair, in the reflection of the mirror he saw Harry, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed.
"Sirius, Me hungry," he declared, and Sirius couldn't help but laugh.
"C'mon, let's get you some food," He said, lifting the child up and carting him downstairs. Just as he was bounding around the corner to get to the kitchen, he heard three softs raps upon the door. He answered it too find Albus standing there, in his favoured violet robs, his beard trimmed and combed.
"Good to see you, Sirius," Albus nodded a nice greeting.
Sirius ushered him in, saying, "As it is you, Albus. Please, to the kitchen. I was just getting Harry some breakfast."
Once he had sat both Harry and Dumbledore, he made quick work of finding a glass bowl to put some cereal in. However, the cereal was no easy task to find, but after digging in the dark cupboards he finally found some Cheerios. He then added some milk and a spoon and gave it to Harry.
"You called me here, Sirius." Dumbledore looked over his half-moon glasses with his I-know-what's-going-on-here-look.
Sirius stuttered his words. "Y-yes, sir, I did. You see, w-with the recent loss of Remus, and the wounds still not fully healed from the deaths of Lily and James, it's harder than ever to take care of Harry. He's a terrific kid, but I've just let myself go. I've let the place go. If Remus were here he'd tell me to get off my last arse, but he isn't and… it's hard to cope. I'm not in a condition to raise a child. Not now. Maybe if you could, while I'm recuperating, is find Harry a different place to stay, Albus, what do you think of that?"
Albus sat, with elbows on the table and hands clasped together, pondering Sirius' preposition. At the head of the table Harry slurped his soup loudly, occasionally just picking up the bowl and drinking the milk. Sirius couldn't help but look down at the little ridiculous milk mustache.
"Sirius, are you sure you want to do this?" Albus queried. It was a light question, but Sirius knew it was asking both about Harry and his real plan. Dumbledore could always pick up on that kind of stuff.
Sirius gave a nod. "Yes, Albus, I am very sure." He watched the wide old man's blue eyes, only now they were laden with sadness and not life.
"Very well then. I shall find Harry a temporary home to stay." With a heavy heart, Sirius turned his attention to Harry, who was all done with the cereal. He bent down with his hands on his knees, eye level to Harry.
"Harry, would you like Dumbledore to find you someone to have a sleep-over with?" He felt really guilty about lying to the young child, but he didn't want to break the boy's heart by saying Sirius was in no way okay.
"Yes!" Harry giggled, his little kid smiled managing to melt Sirius' heart like butter. He lifted the child out of his high-chair. Harry's arms were thrown across Sirius' shoulders, and his he rested on Sirius' right shoulder. As Sirius walked upstairs, Albus following, he rubbed the boy's back. He forced himself not to cry. He didn't want to fathom that this would be the last time he got to see Harry, but he knew what had to be done.
They stood abroad the dark oak door. The sunlight filtered in from outside through the windows beside the large door, and the coloured glass above it. You could see the little dust particles in the light shafts, and Sirius busied himself watching one float around. "Sirius," Albus spoke, and Sirius lifted his head a little, looking at Albus through thick black bangs. Albus' head was cocked to the side, and appeared very grave.
Sirius unlatched Harry from his upper body, holding the child out in front of him. He then kneeled in the ground, still holding Harry's sides.
"Harry, I want you to know it wasn't your fault."
"What, Sirius?"
"Never you mind, but you did not do it. Harry, you are an amazing child and you are sure to be an amazing wizard who will do great things. Don't be corrupted. And lastly, I love you Harry." Sirius engulfed Harry into a large embrace, his eyes gently closing as Harry wrapped his short little arms around Sirius' neck. A single tear slid down the latter's cheek, and he burrowed his face more into the little toddler's shoulder.
Pulling away, Sirius smiled a little, and using the back of his hand he swiftly wiped away the lone tear. Harry gazed at him, emerald orbs seeming to stare right through Sirius.
"I love you, too." He said. He knew Sirius was sad, he just couldn't understand why. "Why Sirius sad?"
Sirius gingerly stroked Harry's cheek with his thumb. "Baby, I'm not sad. Alright?" Harry nodded. Sirius hefted the boy up and gave him to Albus.
"We shall be going, Sirius," Albus said in a low, ushered tone as he turned gracefully on the ball of his foot.
Harry's small head poked over Dumbledore's robes, and he waved as they walked out the door, saying, "G'bye, Sirius! Love you! See you soon!"
Sirius waved back, halfheartedly. "I love you too, Harry!" He called so Harry could hear it. "But I don't want it to be soon," he said to himself, clutching a closed hand towards his heart.
Now for the last portion of the day.
Sirius gathered everything he'd need. He had thought this out countless times before, had had so many dreams over it. He planned everything, knew just how it was going to work. He sat down, and wrote a note, explaining why he had to do what he was doing, and leaving Harry with everything he owned.
Slowly, he stood up from the writing table that was pushed up against the stairs. He clicked off the little green receptionist light, and trudged up the stairs to his bedroom. The one that he had shared with Remus.
Carefully, he pushed open the maple wood door, and walked in the room. He wouldn't do it here, no this was for nostalgia, for remembering old times spent together. This was the room where they had slept every night, except on full moons, Remus curled perfectly up into Sirius like his missing puzzle piece. They had always lain under the warm, silky red comforter, and Sirius would whisper sweet nothing into the other's ear. This was the room where they had committed themselves to each other, a bond created that was so powerful, neither man knew how to describe, but neither denied its existence, and both agreed it was a sign that they were truly meant for each other.
This was the room Sirius was planning to propose to Remus in. He knew Remus wouldn't have wanted something fancy, something extravagant. He knew Remus would more prefer an intimate place that held significance between the friends and lovers. This would have been perfect. But the crash. The reason Sirius was going to do was he was about to.
He left the room of warm feelings alone, and went back to the bedroom where he had taken residence. The room hidden in back, deteriorating from lack of use. The floorboards creaked and sunk downwards slightly when you walked over them. The once pretty, ornate rug was now dingy and mouse-eaten, and the woodworking had lost its luster over the years.
He set his stool in the very centre of the room, it light wood surface out of place with the drab depressing room. He grabbed his rope, and tied it to the ceiling fan. Making sure it was stable and would not fall from his weight; Sirius stood on the floor and pulled on the loop at the end.
Deciding it was safe as it ever would be, and if the rope didn't break his neck surely the fan would do enough damage to harm him, he stood squarely on the stool. His heart was pounding his in throat; the steady sound of its pound resonating in Sirius' ears. His palms were slick with sweat as he lifted the noose up over his head.
With it resting on his shoulders, he took the last few seconds of his life to make sure this is what he wanted to do. That he absolutely could not live without Remus. And when the image of Remus, sandy brown hair and smiling amber eyes flooded into his eyes, he did it. He kicked the stool out from underneath him. And then, nothing. He wasn't awake to hear the sickening snap of his neck. His unseeing eyes couldn't watch the rug design spin slowly as his dead corpse turned slightly throughout the air.
Sirius was dead.
